


Touch

by cabbybara



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Bisexual Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Gay, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, IT 2017 - Freeform, IT 2019, M/M, Post-IT (2017), Reddie, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Shy Love, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2020-11-01 10:33:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 47,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20813687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cabbybara/pseuds/cabbybara
Summary: Richie is a hugger.  He likes to show his affection to all his friends. But recently, Eddie refuses to let Richie lay a hand on him. This hurts Richie and he doesn't know what he did wrong. Until one day, he confronts Eddie.





	1. Movie at Bev's

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfiction!  
I woke up at 4am and throughout the whole day wrote 5000 words what is wrong with me lmao  
I was full of those reddie feels man  
Also I'm shit at knowing when to end and start paragraphs along with other small grammar mistakes I hope to get better at along the way  
Please let me know what you think! How I can make it better! I'm so hyped up for a shy reddie romance!

The losers club was at Bev's place. The new place she lived in with her aunt. It was an apartment just as crappy as her last, but she got to stay in Derry with her best friends. She would never be able to thank her aunt enough for agreeing to uproot her life for her. 

This was the first time the loseres were coming over for a visit. Beverly didn't understand why they wanted to see her new place so bad, it was cramped and not nearly as fun as the clubhouse, but the gang wouldn't let up about it until she agreed they could come over to watch a movie.

Bill was sitting at the left end of the couch, Ben in the middle, and Beverly at the right end. Stan was sat on the ground in front of Bill's feet, snacking on a bowl of goldfish sat on the coffee table. Mike was in a bean bag sipping a coca-cola. Richie was fussing with the VCR putting in his new copy of Back to the Future. And Eddie was sat in an armchair, taking advantage of the reclining aspect.

Bev's aunt enters the living room with two big bowls of popcorn and a plate of fruit. As if any of the kids would choose to eat a slice of honeydew instead of salty buttery popcorn.

"Now I know this popcorn is gonna go fast, but we only had two big bowls so Beverly can make more for you when it runs out. I'm gonna leave you kids alone and go check out this book club I was invited to. If it sucks I might be home by the time Marty's mom tries to kiss him."

Everyone laughed. Beverly's aunt was young and easy-going. With fiery red hair like her niece. She was nothing like her brother that Bev was forced to be raised with. The gang was really happy for Bev. Beverly was happy too. The new situation was a bit awkward, but her aunt wanted to make up for lost time and she appreciated that.

As soon as Beverly's aunt walked out the front door, Richie let out a classic trashmouth comment.

"Bev your aunt is so hot I'm practically-"

"Beep beep trashmouth," Beverly retorts before he can get any farther.

Richie gets up from the floor after pressing play on the movie. He spins twards his friends and looks for a place to sit. He could sit on the ground next to Stan or...

Richie practically hops into Eddie's lap making Eddie jump up and cuss.

"What the fuck Richie get another spot!"

The rest of the loser club watches them with annoyance, but still watching to see what would happen next.

"But this looks like the most comfortable spot in the room Eddie Bear," he pouts his lower lip at Eddie. But Kaspbrak is unamused and instead of arguing with Richie, walks away and plops down next to Stan and in front of Ben. Shoving his own hand into the goldfish bowls and munching angrily.

Richie is surprised. Eddie usually lasts longer in their spats, as the gang likes to call them.

"Eds, you didn't have to move you can have the chair I'm just messing around-"

"No no it's fine just take the chair. And don't call me Eds."

Richie looks to the rest of the group in a "what's his problem?" type of way, but when met with looks just as confused as his own he shrugs and hops into the chair. Also taking advantage of the reclining aspect.

The two popcorn bowls get passed around throughout the first third of the movie until they are both empty. Bev looks at the empty bowls and groans knowing she has to miss a bit of the movie to go make some more. Ben picks up on this.

"I can go make the popcorn Bev, just tell me where the stuff for it is."

"Are you sure Ben? Because I can it's no-"

"-Yeah Bev you know I don't mind," he smiles sheepishly.

Beverly returns his smile with one of her own making Ben blush.

"The kernels are in the pantry above the coffee maker. The butter should be sat out on the counter. Thanks, Ben.."

"No problem Bev." He gets up from his seat, glad to be doing something that makes Beverly happy.

Ben is only gone a minute or two before Richie gets up from his seat and takes Ben's. His long legs tiptoe over Stan and behind Eddie to squeeze in. Bill and Bev give the intruder a confused look, he throws an arm around each of them and responds with, "What can I say? I just love being a personal cockblock to Billy and his girl." Both trapped victims shoved off Richie's arm and hid their blush from each other.

"Shut up trashmouth," they say at the same time, which deepens their blush. Richie's legs are now behind Eddie. He knows he shouldn't mess with Eds. He certainly didn't seem to appreciate it before. But the teen can't help his need for teasing his best bud.

Ben re-enters with two fresh bowls of popcorn and looks gutted to see his spot next to Bev taken.

"Sorry, ol haystack. Don't you know the age-old proverb? You move your feet you lose your seat."

Ben rolls his eyes and reaches over Bill and Richie to personally hand a bowl of popcorn to Beverly. She gives him an apologetic smile, but she can't do much to control Richie. Ben sets the other bowl of popcorn on the edge of the coffee table in front of stan and close to his new seat in the chair. He does not take advantage of the reclining aspect.

Eddie wants to focus on the movie. He wants to ignore the boy now sitting behind him. He could move over to sit in front of Beverly, but he didn't want to make it obvious that he didn't want to be near Richie. Eddie tries to pay attention to the plot, but he has seen this movie like 5 times. It didn't exactly draw in his attention like the first couple times. So he keeps his eyes on the movie but focuses on Stan through his peripheral vision. Stan grabs a hand full of popcorn and eats one at a time. He eats one fucking kernel at a time. Who does that?? Eddie's nerves were shot and everything was annoying him. His back hurt and he wanted to lean back against something, but he didn't want to lean against Richie's legs. So, he remains with his perfect posture and a handfull of popcorn. He tries to eat them one kernel at a time like Stanley. At least it was giving him something to focus on.

Richie, as well, had no interest in the movie. He is staring at the back of Eddie's head. Talking himself out of poking Eddie's back with his feet. Wondering if Eddie was pissed at him. Has he done something bad recently? Nothing out of the normal range of annoying antics that Eddie is used to. He didn't expect Eddie to let him sit in his lap of course, but he didn't expect Eddie to not fight back. To give up the chair. It was such a little thing to dwell on, but Richie couldn't help it. It would suck if one of his best friends was for real pissed at him.

The movie finally ended and Eddie's back fucking ached. When the credits began to roll he got up almost immediately to stretch. His back cracked an impressive amount of times. Beverly got up as well and began to pick up the dishes and empty soda cans. Mike got up to help and even took some dishes from Beverly to go wash them in the sink himself. Ben had a look on his face like, "why didn't I think to do that first."

He still wandered into the kitchen after them though, empty-handed.

"You look tense buddy," Richie teases from the couch, "Need a back rub Eddie Spaghetti?" 

Eddie scoffs. "No thanks, I'll just get one from your mom later tonight."

Richie laughs, "Nice one," and outstretches his hand to high five Eddie for the impressive mom joke.

Eddie high fives him half-heartedly.

Richie is disappointed, "Dude, lame high five."

Bill stands up from the couch and Stan, still in front of his legs, leans forward to let him get past.

In a disappointed voice, Bill announces loud enough for those in the kitchen to hear," S-sorry but I shou-should be heading home soon."

"You sure you can't stay any longer," Stan askes, sad.

"No," Bill says a bit embarrassed. "Mom said I st-stayed out too late the other d-day and is kinda being an ah-ass about curfew now."

Beverly, Ben, and Mike both came back out from the kitchen into the living room.

"I should be getting home too," Mike chimed in. Everyone understood that. It took Mike the longest to get home.

Beverly gave both boys a hug.

"Okay, guys. Get home safe. Was my place worth the begging to come visit?"

Bill chuckled, "d-definitely."

Everyone said goodbye to the two as they headed out together and left was Beverly, Stan, Ben, Richie, and Eddie.

Ben glanced around the living room. "You guys have any board games? Or card games?"

"No, we don't. Not yet. My aunt didn't bring much back from Portland as I'm sure you can tell by her unintentional minimalist decor."

The gang laughed because it was true. Other than things like the couch, chair, and tv in the living room, there wasn't a whole lot in the apartment. It looked only half moved into, though that wasn't the case.

"Well, we have all those games at the clubhouse," Richie suggested.

"Yeah we can go and bring some back or play there," Stan agreed.

"Why don't you guys go on ahead without me. My aunt and I were gonna watch Alf together tonight." Whether Beverly was tired for the night and was getting rid of the boys or actually meant to stay home to hang out with her aunt, they all said their goodbyes and thanked her for hosting tonight. Richie made one last nasty comment about Bev's aunt and the door was closed in his face. Ben punched him in the shoulder.


	2. What the hell is wrong with you?

It was Richie, Eddie, Ben, and Stan at the clubhouse. They began a game of monopoly, but Richie was horribly impatient with that game. He usually always lost first because he got bored and stopped putting in real effort. Once he was out, Eddie landed on Stan’s hotel on the Boardwalk.

“Fuck!” Eddie throws down his last 500 monopoly bills which didn't pay off the debt owed, so Eddie was out second.

It was between Stan and Ben, which is how it usually ended up when the gang played monopoly. Except for when Mike was here. He always gave everyone a real run for their money. 

Richie and Eddie watch from the sidelines, Eddie now given the job of banker. The two still in the game put up a good fight, but the clear winner at the end was Stan.

Richie shouts triumphantly, “Stan the man!” He pulls Stan in a little closer by his collar and whispers, pretending to make it seem like he was telling Stan something in secret, but loud enough to make sure everyone else hears, “yknow buddy I was rooting for you the whole time.”

Stan laughs and shoves him away. Then gives a gentleman’s handshake to Ben. Signifying it as a good and fair game. Together, they all cleaned up the pieces and agreed it was time to go home. Richie gave Stan a hug, then gave Ben a hug. Eddie knew it was coming, but he still wasn't prepared for how to turn it down just yet. But Richie, without any warning, swallowed Eddie into a bear hug before the small boy could refuse. Eddie felt that familiar panic rise within him and wanted Richie off.

“Get the fuck off of me,” Eddie shrieked and shoved Richie hard. So hard he fell back into the wall and hit his head. Stan and Ben both rushed over to help Richie up and they all stared wide-eyed at Eddie.

Stan spoke first, “Dude, what the fuck was that?”

“I-I,” Eddie didn't know what to say. He didn't mean to react the way he did. He just... reacted.

Richie held the back of his head that hit the wall. Shock was written all over his face. He snapped himself out of it and told Stan and Ben they better head on home without them.

“Shit,” Eddie thought. “Shit shit shit what did I do? Whats Richie gonna do?”

Ben didn't want to be here on account of the awkward turn it took, but still being a good friend asked Richie, “You sure man? You good to ride home with,” he pointed to his own head. He was asking Richie if he thought he would pass out while riding his bike home and make the injury worse.

“Yeah yeah haystack I'm fine thanks,” and gave an over-exaggerated reassuring smile to Stan and Ben. The two shuffled out of the clubhouse, kinda wanting to see what would happen next, but also kinda not wanting to be there for what would happen next.

Richie watched the boys until they closed the door and darted his eyes to Eddie, who was looking at the floor ashamed.

“Rich, I'm really sorry I didn't mean to do that I-”

“What the hell is wrong with you? Recently every time I get within a foot of you you tense up and every time I try to hug you you push me away and now you are literally pushing me away headfirst into a fucking wall because I hugged you! I mean I'm just trying to express that I love you like I do for all our friends, but you obviously fucking hate me recently! What the hell happened to us? Did I do something stupid recently that I don't remember and you’re pissed at me about it?”

Eddie looked like a deer in headlights. Mouth agape and eyes wide. He was unable to find words. He spoke fast and high pitched like he often does when he gets riled up.

"N-n-no nothing like that! I-I..love you too."

Eddie had only relayed back to Richie what he had said before, but there was something different... softer about these words leaving Eddie's lips. And those words seemed to cause Eddie a great deal of stress judging by his breath becoming hitched and unsteady.

Richie watched, still clutching his aching head, as Eddie's small hands fumbled with the zipper of his fanny pack to retrieve his plastic lifeline. Richie's eyes paid notice to the rise and fall of Eddie's chest and how huffed up it got when Eddie took a big inhale from his inhaler. The visible calm that washes over Eddie's face after a hit from this favorite placebo didn't arrive this time. Panic and fear stayed plastered onto his face.

Eddie’s eyes were on Richie's head, “are you like, bleeding,” he asked with concern.

“No, Eds. I'm not bleeding. I'm fine.”

“Okay. Okay. I'm sorry.” Eddie didn't know what else to say.

Richie wanted to approach this subject delicately. He felt guilty for yelling before. He felt guilty for hugging Eddie. Obviously, if someone doesn't like to be touched so much they push someone against a damn wall, there's gotta be more to the story than they aren't in the mood for a hug.

Eddie refused to meet Richie’s eyes. Richie couldn't take his eyes off of Eddie's.

The boy in glassed had meant to talk first. To say something to ease the uncomfortable silence and put Kaspbrak out of his misery, like he so often does for his friend group in tense situations, but Eddie beat him to it.

"I-i don't not touch you because I-I think you're gross or something or because im-im mad at you. I mean we do carry all types of germs and it's hard to not think of the exchange of germs when someone touches you, but th-thats not it." Eddie seemed so desperate to not have Richie’s feelings hurt. He seemed like he was trying to tell Richie something under all of this blubbering, but his friend couldn't put it together.

Again, Richie wanted to change the subject and put Eddie out of his misery, but he just couldn't drop it now. He was determined to get an answer out of all of this. Eddie caved from avoiding eye contact and met Richie's eyes in a pleading gaze. The boy in glasses felt heat rise to his cheeks. He didn’t know how to help Eddie. It frustrated him.

Richie tried to ask without sounding too desperate, "Well then what is it?" But he was sure he failed miserably.

Eddie huffed and rolled his eyes, annoyed there isn't an escape from this confrontation, but mainly he rolled his eyes to break the painful eye contact. To give himself a moment to collect himself from sinking into Richie's brown eyes. His palms were sweaty, grasping onto his inhaler. He knows no matter how many times he huffed from the medicine, the air would be thick with words he couldn't dare to speak.

But then, Eddie decided on something. He decided on a dumb idea. He slowly puts his inhaler back into his fanny pack and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. His eyes still refuse to meet Richie’s. Looking into his eyes would make this task all the more harder. Eddie couldn't bare to be brave if he was looking into Richie’s soft and concerned eyes for his anxiety-ridden friend.

Eddie takes a step towards the slender boy. Richie seems to tense, not knowing what was to come next, but knew for once in his life to shut up. Then Eddie takes another step closer, now in Richie's personal space. Feeling Richie’s breath on his forehead and keeping his eyes down to the floor. His heart was pounding so fast. Eddie hoped Richie couldn't somehow hear how fast his heartbeat was.

“Don't worry, I'm not gonna throw you into the wall again,” Eddie joked, trying to ease some of the tension. Richie laughed nervously.

Eddie reached out a shaky hand, very slowly. He doesn't have to reach too far until his hand encounters Richie's and the electric shock of touching the other boy’s hand rushed over him.

Eddie’s pointer finger wraps around Richie's. A silent moment passes as Eddie works up more courage, and then he unwraps his finger from Richie's and replaces it with his small hand instead.

No words passed between the two boys. Richie's mind was working fast. He was so nervous. He had never been nervous being close to Eddie before. A few months ago they had wrestled daily and slept close enough next to each other on the floor at sleepovers that their arms touched. But it’s been a few months. Eddie made sure of that. The lack of his friend’s touch...maybe left him a little touch starved for it.

Richie realized this was taking a lot out of Eddie to do and he appreciated that, even if he didn't fully understand it. And he wasn't quite sure why, but the tenderness of Eddie holding Richie’s hand had his heart melting. Head throbbing forgotten. Richie couldn't help himself from leaning forward a little and placing his chin on top of Eddie's head. He had missed his best friend. His best friend’s hair smelt like apples. Green apples. Richie wanted to stay as still as possible so as not to scare Eddie away, but he couldn't help himself from rubbing the pad of his thumb over Eddie’s hand. Hoping to soothe him and maybe himself a little too.

Eddie wanted to live in this moment. Always denying himself of Richie’s attempts at showing any sign of affection. Telling himself he would be a pervert to get more out of the moment than Richie would.

Eddie’s head was so close to Riche’s chest that he was drawn into resting it there. It felt soft to the touch but was firm to lay against. Richie smelt like cigarettes and sweat. Eddie didn't know it was possible to love the smell of sweat, but he loved the smell of Richie. Eddie closed his eyes. He knew he should break up the moment soon. He hadn't meant to get so far as to lay his head on Richie's fucking chest. He just meant to hold his hand for a moment, and quickly release to show Richie he didn't hate him. He didn't hate his touch. He was just scared of it. Scared of what Richie’s touch did for Eddie.

With much dread, Eddie began to lift his head from Richie’s warm chest and released his hand from his friend’s. Richie, in a moment of panic, not wanting the moment to end just yet, missing his friend too much, wrapped him into a hug. The hug was a shock to Eddie as it was before, but he wasn't going to let himself freak out this time. Still, he didn't quite know how to respond. He didn't want to push Richie or his feelings away any longer. His arms stayed outstretched. He was frozen. The panic he promised himself not to feel started to overcome him and the guilt began to eat at him like it does each time Richie touches him.

Richie was scared. Hell, he was scared. He could admit that to himself. He was scared of how much he wanted Eddie to let him touch him. He wanted to make touching Eddie a regular thing again. He missed it these last few months of Eddie’s unexplained disdain towards him. He wanted to feel Eddie's body against his own and wanted to feel his friend’s breath against his ear like he did now. But Richie felt Eddie's discomfort. He felt guilty for taking a moment Eddie had worked up the courage to do and possibly pushing him too far. He began to move away, but just then Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie as well. Slowly. With caution. As if he wasn't sure it was the right move to make.

Richie was hyper-aware of every sense he had. Green apples. Curly brown hair tickling his chin. Soft breathing heard in the silence. And Eddie, he was shaking. Shaking softly like a chihuahua. At another time, Richie might have made that joke. But he just held Eddie tighter. Maybe to stop the shaking, maybe to just get as close as possible to his friend. When suddenly he felt something new. A spot on his chest felt...Wet?

Eddie’s face was still buried in Richie’s chest and a muffled sob escaped from his mouth. The sudden emotion scared Richie more than he already was.

“Eds? What's wrong?”

Eddie shook his head slightly and tried to make himself stop crying by biting his tongue. A failed attempt.

“I'm sorry Richie. I'm sorry I'm not a good friend.”

Richie was shocked. As much as he didn't want to, he pulled Eddie from himself to get a good look at him. His eyes were red and spilling tears, looking up at Richie with such sadness. His nose starting to drip a little and his cheeks were red with embarrassment. Eddie pulled himself away from Richie and turned away, not wanting Richie to look at him.

With quick strides for such a short boy, Eddie made his way to the clubhouse door and quickly left, not looking back once.

Richie didn't try to stop him except for a pathetic, “Eds-” and the door closed along with whatever else Richie could have said to make Eddie stay.

Honestly, he was glad Eddie left. He didn't know how to deal with any of this. He felt like so much had happened in the last- he checks his watch- seven minutes since the other guys left. He needed to talk to someone about this. He didn't know what happened. Why did he feel so desperate and scared? Why was Eddie crying? Why does he think he's a bad friend? Eddie is one of the best friends trashmouth has ever had. Sure, they bickered and said fuck you to each other constantly after making remarks about the other's mother, but it was all in good fun. Eddie knew that, right? Richie only knew one other person that might know Eddie better than he himself did. Beverly. She was so sensitive to the other losers' emotions. She was able to keen into whatever comfort someone might need when Richie just couldn't. He needed to talk to Beverly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if it feels like this moment came too soon I swear this is a slow burn fic!  
Oh boy I made myself emotional writing this  
I hope it's easy enough to follow along with as it bounces between a focus on Richie then Eddie then Richie then Eddie  
Again, it's my first fic and I'm just too full of excitement to get all the words I think of onto the page so I'm sorry if it's a bit confusing!  
Any advice or suggestions on what you want to see happen next or how I can make this better is seriously welcomed I mean it my dudes


	3. Hey, Bevy! You free right now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit smaller than the first two :)  
Helpful Bevy is helpful

Richie waited a few minutes to give Eddie a head start home. He didn't want to encounter him on his own way home. The second Richie stepped foot inside his front door, he headed straight to the telephone and dialed up Beverly. 

Ring. Ring. Ring. A sweet voice answers, “Hello?”

Richie thanked whatever god there is that she answered.

“Hey, Bevy! You free right now?”

“That depends on whatever you're about to ask me to do.” Beverly knew better than to admit her schedule was opened to someone with endless schemes up his sleeve.

"I just wanted to um...talk?” Richie sounded awkward, which was weird to Bev. He was never awkward around her. Beverly didn't know if that meant he was up to something or if there was actually something serious her friend needed to talk about. She decided to give Richie the benefit of the doubt and go for the latter.

“Sure, I'm free Richie. My aunt fell asleep a bit ago.”

“Oh good good,” Richie rambles on, relieved. “Um, could we meet up though? I'd rather talk about it in person.”

Now Bev was worried. What was so important that they needed to have a conversation about it in person?

“Yeah, no problem. Are you good with meeting at the clubhouse?”

Richie was kinda tired from having just biked back from there, but if he’s the one asking for the meeting then Bev should get to pick the place.

“Yeah, that sounds good. I'll be there in ten minutes.”

Beverly chipped, “See you then,” and they both hung up. Richie biked so fast he was at the spot with a good 4 minutes to spare.

He laid in the hammock and gazed at the spot his head hit the wall. Without any distractions, he was now aware again of the ache. What was he going to tell Beverly? Was he going to tell her he hugged Eddie and he started to cry and apologized for being a bad friend? It all seemed a bit too personal to share with someone without Eds’ permission. 

The clubhouse door opened and Beverly in her blue overalls hopped into the loser clubs’ domain.

“So whats up trashmouth,” she jokes as she takes a seat on the ground in front of the hammock. A sign she was here and ready to listen to whatever Richie had to say. God, he was lucky for a friend like Bev.

Richie got up from the hammock and sat down on the ground next to Bev, wanting to be at eye level with each other.

“A… thing happened earlier with Eddie. Here. Like 25 minutes ago.”

“What happened? Did you guys fight? That's not so out of the ordinary."

Richie shook his head in frustration. Not frustration with Bev, but with himself. “No, it wasn't like that. He shoved me into the wall and I thought we were going to fight. I kinda set it up for us to have a fight. But it got,” his hands were outstretched in front of him as he tried to search for the right word,”...it got emotional.”

Beverly stared at Richie with slightly squinted eyes trying to understand what Richie was telling her. She needed a little more help.

“Emotional how? Were Stan and Ben still here?”

“No, I told them to go home after the wall thing so I could talk to Eds. And it got emotional like...sad. He was upset and I didn't know what to do. And I let him leave upset. I feel really shitty about it.”

“Oh,” was all Beverly had to say. Then she began to get that Beverly Marsh thinking face. The face when she is trying to figure something out without asking for help.

“Yeah,” was all Tozier could dumbly say.

There was silence between them and Richie wanted to tell her everything. He sucked at keeping secrets. He wanted to tell her about how Eddie rested his head on Richie’s chest and Eddie’s green apple smelling hair and about how scared he felt. He wanted to ask her what it all meant as if she had an answer.

Beverly broke the silence before he could reveal these secrets. “Well, we didn't need to meet out here in the clubhouse for me to tell you to go talk to him, dummy.” Richie chuckled at her blatant remark. 

“I guess I just needed to see you.”

Bev scooted closer to Richie and wrapped an arm around him.

“Are you guys okay? I have noticed he seems a bit weird around you recently.”

Richie laid his head on her shoulder. “I don't know Bevy. I kinda thought he hated me, but I guess...he doesn't.” Richie felt like he said too much. It's not like its a close held secret Eddie doesn't hate him, but with the memory of his friend saying he loved him back...even as platonic as it was, Richie just felt like he shared too much.

“Well yeah, he doesn't hate you. You guys are best friends.”

“Yeah. Man, I suck at helping emotional people. I don't know how you do it, Bev.”

She laughs which makes Richie's head bump on her shoulder and he laughs a little too.

“You know it’s actually pretty easy. Its a lot less of actually helping and solving someone’s problems and more of just listening. Just someone talking about what is bothering them can help them figure out how to fix the problem themselves or at least makes them feel a little better.”

Richie looked up at her. “So like right now? Me dragging you down here so I can talk your ear off?”

She pushes him playfully. “You can drag me down here to talk my ear off anytime Tozier. Unless it’s you talking about how hot my aunt is.”

“Well, you know, when her and I get together I’ll still let you live with us-”

Beverly shoved Richie and he fell over, “Beep beep Richie!”

They were both having laughing fits. They began to talk about other things and hung out like they normally did, but at the forefront of Richie’s mind was Eddie. Wondering what Eddie was doing right now. Wondering if Eddie was crying right now.


	4. Clark Kent and Lois Lane

Eddie didn’t go home. He didn’t want his mom to see he had been crying. He didn't want any questions. Riding his bike to no particular place, he let himself cry. He must have looked ridiculous. Some kid in a pink polo shirt with a fanny pack sobbing while shakily riding his bike. He couldn't stand how much he embarrassed himself back there. He finally worked up the courage to confront some kind of barrier inside of him. Allowing himself to reach out and touch Richie. Even hug him! And it was too much. It was all too much. It was too good. Eddie didn't deserve that. 

He found his way to the kissing bridge. Maybe on purpose, maybe on accident. He parked his bike and studied the carvings of love being declared that probably only lasted a few weeks like any high school relationship. He began to wonder if anyone would ever love him enough to do something as silly as carve his name into a bridge.

Eddie cursed himself.

“You're so stupid,” he thought and buried his head in his hands. He wished he could just drop the subject in his mind altogether. He was so tired of staying up late at night wondering about the possibilities. He was tired of feeling his cheeks heat up every time he looked just a little too long into Richie’s eyes. He was tired of the fleeting images he couldn't help but imagine. He was tired of ruining their friendship. They were really good friends. Been through a hell of a lot together. They were always there for each other and knew almost everything about the other. Almost.

It was getting chilly and Eddie heard his mom’s voice nagging in the back of his head that he would get a cold. Sluggishly, he got back onto his bike and rode home.

After the fussing from his mother about being home so late and feeling as cold as a popsicle, he excused himself to the bathroom. Eddie took a glance at himself in the mirror, but quickly looked back down. He didn't want to look at his pathetic self.

Eddie washed his tear stained face with warm water. The warmth loosed up some of the tension he held. It relaxed him, not enough, but some. He dried off his face and dared to take another look in the mirror, but his eyes started to fill with tears again so he just decided to go to bed. To forget this day.

In his room, he put on blue flannel pajamas and wrapped himself in two thick blankets. He had a fleeting thought to call Richie, but what would he say?

“Hey, Rich! Sorry I probably gave you a concussion and then cried in your arms! Pretty awkward of me ahah.” Eddie buried his head in his pillows and groaned in frustration. 

He tried to keep his eyes closed and go to sleep, but he couldn't. Every time he closed his eyes he couldn't help but feel like he was back in the clubhouse. Alone with Richie. Being held by Richie. And then he would start to get that shameful feeling again. The comfort and longing of that moment was stained into his brain and the more he thought of it the more other parts of him started to react. The butterflies in the stomach. The butterflies he felt even lower than in his stomach. He sat up miserably in bed and looked at the clock. It was only 9:13pm. He fell back into his pillow and tried to think about Marty McFly instead of his best friend.

The next morning, Eddie had no plans for leaving the house. Much to his mother’s satisfaction. When he went to brush his teeth, the mirror showed that his eyes were puffy from last night’s crying. He felt like a total baby.

Eddie locked himself in his room and read comic books he was borrowing from Bill. Comics about The Green Lantern, the Joker, and Superman. He didn't like the Superman comic much though because it had a lot to do about Clark Kent and Lois Lane. That type of stuff he was trying to avoid thinking about today. But there was this picture of the two together on one of the pages, and Eddie couldn't get himself to stop staring at it. He even put in a bookmark because he kept going back to it. They both looked so in love…

Suddenly, there was a knock at Eddie’s window and he jumped, slamming the comic closed and onto his desk as if he was looking at something he shouldn't have been.

Again, the knock came and Eddie really wanted to just ignore it. He knew it would be one of his friends trying to get him to come and hang out, but Eddie just wanted to be alone.

The knock, more impatiently this time, and louder, came again and Eddie knew he should answer it before his mother heard and came to see what the noise was all about.

He got up reluctantly from his desk chair and opened the blinds. There behind them was Tozier, the absolute last person, yet the only person, Eddie wanted to see today. He rolled his eyes to make himself seem annoyed instead of excited. 

Richie was glad Eddie finally opened the fucking window because he was about to go to the front door and ask Mrs. Kaspbrak herself if he could see Eddie. Her answer would have probably been that he has some made up sickness and can't go outside today.

“Eddie! Good morning sleepyhead,” Richie greats. “Were you gonna stay in bed all day or something?” Richie jests when noticing Eddie still in his pjs at 12pm.

“If I feel like it yeah maybe, what's it to you,” Eddie jabs back. Even if Richie was teasing him, he appreciated him not opening up the conversation with things like “What happened last night? Are you okay?”

“Well, I wanted to know if you wanted to go throw rocks at the lake with me or something.”

Eddie wanted to say yes. It sounded like just the kind of dumb thing they would do together before he started turning down Richie’s invitations to hang out one on one a few months ago. But he knew that if he went, he would make it weird somehow. Which is why he always refused. He would spend the whole time with anxiety and ruin the fun for both of them. He really did want to just stay in bed all day.

“Sorry… Im not really feeling up to it today. I think I might be coming down with something.” That was a favorite excuse of Eddie’s to use.

Richie rolled his eyes. “Bullshit,” he contested.

Eddie was offended by the challenge, “What's it even matter trashmouth? I don't want to go out today.” He began to shut the window when Richie said, “Wait! If you just don't want to go out, can I come in?”

Eddie froze and now knew if he refused it would be obvious he didn't want to hang out with Richie, not that he just wanted to stay in today which might hurt his friend’s feelings. He found it sweet Richie was trying so hard to get him to hang out. Even if Eddie was sure it was out of pity. 

“I don't know Richie, my mom yknow…” he trailed off.

“We can do something quiet. Just for a little bit Eds I promise.”

Richie’s pleading made Eddie’s face burn red.

Tozier broke into a big smile when he saw Eddie beginning to open his window all the way for him to climb in. Which he did so, very ungracefully. He was halfway over and tripped into the room face first causing a “thump”

“Fuck Richie I let you come in and the first 10 second you’re breaking your promise to be quiet.” Eddie whispered frantically as he was closing the window. 

“Don't worry bud. Im not hurt or anything,” Richie snarked sarcastically.

Eddie rolled his eyes and glanced around his room, “So.... what did you want to do?”

Richie looked around as well and pointed at the Superman comic on Eddie’s desk. “You got a new comic?”

Eddie panicked knowing the page that was bookmarked, “Nono its Bill’s I’m borrowing it.” He tried to grab it before Richie, but Richie was faster than he was. In 5 seconds the lanky boy was holding open the comic and sitting in Eddie’s chair with his feet propped up on his desk.

The germs distracted Eddie from his embarrassment of having the picture of Clark Kent and Lois Lane bookmarked. 

“Gross man take off your shoes there are so many gross things you could have stepped in on your way over here that are now all over my desk.” 

Richie took his feet on the desk, still looking at the comic. “Lois is so hot dude. They always put her in those tight fucking skirts.”

Eddie was uncomfortable, “Yeah...she's pretty sexy.” He agreed in an attempt to sound relatable.

“Are you at this point in the comic or do you have this page bookmarked to jack off to or something? I can't blame you. Think I could borrow it after you?” Trashmouth rambled.

Eddie swiped the comic from his slender fingers and took a seat on the edge of his bed. “Beep beep pervert. And you know Bill would never lend you another comic after you spilled soda on the last one.”

Richie threw his hands in the air, “You make one mistake! Billy sure does hold a grudge.”

Eddie hushed Richie because he was getting too loud, but also laughed at his friend’s distraught tone.

“Well, you can still borrow my comics… if you're careful.” Eddie offers sheepishly. “I told my mom all I wanted for my birthday was money to go get something at the comic shop, but who knows if that will happen. She’s probably too scared I’ll get a papercut or something.” 

Richie was flattered and looked down. “Thanks buddy,” was all he said. 

“Yeah...no problem.” 

Both boys were quiet, trying to think of something to talk about other than the elephant in the room. Eddie couldn't stop himself from his genuine concern and asked, “How's your head?”

Richies raised on eyebrow, surprised Eddie was willingly bringing this up. “It’s fine. I got a pretty wicked bump though.”

Eddie scoffed, “No you don't! I didn't push you that hard.”

“Seriously dude! Check it out.” He got up from the desk chair and sat next to Eddie on his bed, giving him his space, but was close enough to gesture for Eddie to feel.

Eddie tentatively reached out his hand and felt a welt under Richie’s mess of curls. He took his hand away quick. “Damn Rich. Im sorry. It must hurt.”

Richie laughed. “You don't know your own strength Spaghetti Man.”

“Don't call me that,” Eddie groaned. “Really though. I am sorry. About it all.”

Richie took a deep breath and begin to speak like he had practiced this line beforehand. “You're a...,” Richie faltered, but proceeded, “...good friend. You know that, right?”

Eddie felt hot. “I guess.”

Richie waited a few moments in case Eddie was going to say more. He wanted to do like Bev said and just let him talk about whatever was bothering him, but nothing else was said so he guessed Eddie needed more prompting.

“Do you want to talk...about anything?” Poor Richie felt so uncomfortable, but he wanted to help his friend work through this. “Because I'm here to listen to...whatever it is.” 

Eddie’s heart warmed at Richie’s effort. But still, Eddie wasn't ready to throw out their friendship for good by having this conversation.

“I just want to hang out like we used to, honestly.”

“Yeah, I want that too,” Richie agreed. He was disappointed they weren't having the heart to heart Beverly told him they needed to have, but he also didn't want to force it. Eddie would talk to him whenever he was ready.

“I know you said you wanted to stay in today, but Bill and Stan were planning on going to catch a movie later today. Do you want to go with them,” Richie asks. “If not that's okay! We can stay here. I can kick your ass at a card game or something.”

Eddie was flattered Richie was asking if he wanted to go like they were a package deal. That if he declined Richie wouldn't go either. He decided not to deny himself of having a fun time like he has been. Plus, it wasn't like they were going alone to the movie. It was with their friends. It should be fine. He should be fine.

“Alright. Yeah, I'll come with.”

Richie’s face changed from hopeful to excited in a split second. “Awesome! I’m real sorry to go, but I should get home and do some chores if mom is gonna give me money for the movie.”

“Yeah sure. When are we all meeting up there?”

“The movie is at 5 I think. I'll be here at 4:30 and we can ride our bikes there together.”

That damn blush Eddie was sick of getting around Richie made its way to his cheeks again. “Yeah, Rich. That sounds good. I'll be ready.”

Richie climbed out the window just about as smoothly as he climbed in. Which was not smooth at all. The two waved goodbye to each other and Eddie sat in his bed hugging his knees to his chest. He felt happy. Happy to be Richie’s friend.


	5. Let's agree to let Eddie choose next time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a chapter written for the future that I'm really excited about and cant wait to share, but having the willpower to sit down and write chapters leading up to it that are organic and meaningful is proving to be a difficult task.  
I hope people find this chapter to be fulfilling and entertaining  
Apologies that it's short  
Silence of the Lambs is a good movie  
I stan red licorice

Richie, after 3 hours of performing every chore his mother could dream up, now had enough money to see the movie with the guys and pay for Eddie’s ticket as well. He felt like it was the right thing to do since he invited him last minute.

Richie showered and changed into a fresh tshirt, Hawaiian button-up shirt, and blue jeans. He combed his hair and stuffed his backpack with licorice he had leftover from one of the losers club’s movie nights.

On his way out the door, he yelled into the house a goodbye to his mom and dad, then was riding his bike over to Eddie’s. 

Richie threw his bike down onto the Kaspbrak lawn and made his way up to the front door to knock. He hated doing this because 70% of the time Eddie’s mom answered the door. Richie didn't have the softest spot for the woman. She was constantly trying to keep Eddie from hanging out with the gang and making him take sugar pills to fill Eddie with paranoia that he was sick when he wasn't. Pretty fucked up thing to do.

Richie took a deep breath and prepared to do some ass-kissing if he had to convince Ms. Kaspbrak to let Eddie come and hang out. 

Luckily, Eddie answer the door. He was wearing a maroon tshirt and khaki shorts along with his fanny pack, of course. Eddie yelled out to his mom that he loved her and pushed Richie out of the middle of the doorway so he could rush outside and close the front door before his mom had anything else to say.

Richie and Eddie got onto their separate bikes and rode to the movies. With the wind whipping past their ears, Eddie yelled loud enough to ask Richie, “What movie are we seeing?!”

“Huh?!” Richie yelled back.

“I asked what movie are we seeing?!” Eddie yelled louder.

“Huh?!!” Richie yelled back again, but seeing Eddie going to repeat himself, Richie let up on the joke, “I'm just fucking with you man I hear you! I don't know, but I think Bill is picking since Stan picked a documentary or some shit last time!”

Richie and Eddie got to the theater and set their bikes into the bike rack, seeing that Stan and Bill’s bikes were already there. Stan’s bike was among one of the few to have chained and locked up to prevent theft.

“Hey, guys!” Stan called from the ticket stand to get the two boys' attention. 

Richie and Eddie walked over to them and Tozier gave Bill a pat on the back.

“Good call not letting Stanley pick the movie this time.”

Stan pretended to be hurt for a moment, but laughed along with them.

“I decided on Sil-lence of th-the Lambs,” Bill announced.

Richie was shocked and snapped his head towards the stuck up curly-haired boy in the buttoned-up polo. 

“Stan, you're okay with this? Stanley Scaredy Pants?”

“Oh shut up trashmouth the previews for it looked alright,” Stan argued, defending himself.

Eddie, on the other hand, was a little white. “Of all the movie genres,” Eddie thought to himself, “why horror???”

Richie threw an arm around Eddie’s shoulders. “Don't worry Eds, I'll protect you from the big scary Hannibal.”

Yesterday, before that thing at the clubhouse, Eddie would have shoved Richie’s arm off, but he decided to accept it. To not make things weird in front of Stan and Bill by refusing. He pushed down the excitement the contact gave him and told the four-eyed dweeb to shove it. Richie laughed and removed his arm as they all walked up to buy their tickets. Bill and Stan bought theirs and once it was Eddie’s turn, Richie stepped in front of him and asked the lady for two tickets for Silence of the Lambs.

When they all were inside, Eddie said softly to Richie, “You didn't have to buy my ticket. I brought money.”

Richie ruffled his friend’s hair, which Eddie immediately began to fix, and replied, “I wanted to Eds. It's the least I can do for dragging you out of your cave. Plus, you're gonna need your money to buy new khakis after pissing in yours from this movie.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and tried to hide how flattered he was by the kind gesture.

“I woulda let you pay for my ticket,” Stan quips.

“What and make your boyfriend feel interior that another man is buying your things? I wouldn't do that to Big Bill.”

Both Stan and Bill told Richie to fuck off.

The joke gave Eddie immense anxiety and he began to sweat, even though the joke had nothing to do with him.

The theater was mostly empty, save for a few scattered couples. The boys claimed 4 seats in the very back of the theater so they could whisper to each other without bothering the other viewers. Eddie sat on the left end, Richie next, then Bill, then Stan at the other end. While watching the previews, each of them bragged about what snack they snuck in. Stan brought goldfish, Bill brought gummy worms, Eddie’s fanny pack was full of M&Ms, and Richie showed off his red licorice. It seemed that he was the only one here that actually liked licorice, though. Bev and Mike did too, but weren't here today. So Richie just said that there would be more for himself.

About 30 minutes into the movie, Richie was craving chocolate. He wanted some M&Ms. Eddie’s eyes were glued to the screen as he mindlessly munched on his snack. His fanny pack was still attached to his waist and unzipped, revealing a chocolate pot of gold. Without thinking much about it, Richie reached over into Eddie’s fanny pack and grabbed a handful.

Naturally, whether or not Eddie had a touching issue, it's a bit alarming to be focusing on a movie and suddenly your friend’s hand is heading towards your crotch and digging into your fanny pack for something. Eddie jumped at the contact and some M&Ms spilled out onto the theater floor making repeating tapping noise as they bounced and rolled under all the seats and to the front of the room. Stan and Bill leaned forward and gave Eddie a “shut up dude” look. Richie apologized in a whisper for alarming him and said something about wasted M&Ms that Eddie didn't quite hear. 

Eddie replayed the momentary pressure he felt through his fanny pack when Richie was digging for candy. He felt like he was having a heat flash even though he was just a teenage boy.

“Fuck,” Eddie thought. “Please don't do this,” He pleaded with himself.

It looked like Richie had just run out of M&Ms. But this time, Richie leaned over to Eddie and whispered, “Can I have some more?” Having learned his lesson that Eddie, like usual, was on edge. 

“Sure,” Eddie whispered back, forcing himself to push down the shameful sexual frustration he felt. He grabbed a fist full of M&Ms and went to hand them to Richie. Richie moved his own hand under Eddie’s and another hand to cup the side of Eddie’s. He did this to be careful that none were dropped again. Richie's hands were soft, just like Eddie remembered them being the night before. Eddie wondered sadly when the next time the two of them would ever have a reason to hold hands again. He carefully released the candy.

“Thanks, Eds,” Richie whispered.

“Don't call me that,” Eddie whispered back. Too soft for Richie to hear.

The movie was almost over and it was getting pretty intense. Stan was leaning his head into his hand, seemingly for comfort, but really to be able to quickly shield his eyes if he needed to. Richie wondered if Stan would be plotting revenge against Bill for taking him to see this. Bill seemed to be doing alright, but he was visibly eating his gummy worms faster during the scary bits. Eddie was clutching onto the sides of his seat and grimacing at most of the scenes. The scariest part of this movie for Eddie was how unsanitary it all was. Richie’s mind kept wandering to different episodes of The Simpsons that he had seen recently. Not much could hold Richie’s attention for long. Even a horror movie.

It was to the part of the movie where Jodie Foster is in the house with the serial killer but doesn't yet know he's the killer. Tozier looked over to see that Eddie's face was as white as a sheet. Richie reached over and gave Eddie’s hand a squeeze. An “It's just a movie pal” type of squeeze, to bring his friend back to reality. 

Eddie was embarrassed for multiple reasons that Richie did that. He was mainly embarrassed because his hands were unbelievably clammy. Still, he wanted to take back Richie’s and hold it through the whole ordeal. Though the rest of the movie. Forever, really. 

Some scenes of action and suspense later, the movie ended and the boys, now slightly scarred from the grotesque nature of the film, sauntered out of the theater into the twilight air outside.

“That was… a lot m-more than I expected.” Bill admitted apologetically.

“Let's agree to let Eddie choose next time. I feel like Eddie would choose a rom com. Something wholesome and not terrifying.” Stanely suggested while unlocking the chain that was safely securing his bike to the bike rack.

Bill elbowed Eddie and chuckled to Stan, “Sure thing.”

Eddie shook his head in disbelief. “All that blood. The unsanitized butchering. So much possible infection.”

Stan groaned. “I think I need a shower now.”

Richie and Bill exchanged amused looks on account of their fastidious friends.

“I, for one, loved the movie,” Riche answered as if someone had asked him. “Jodie Foster looks like a delicious babe and I totally understand Hannibal wanting a taste of that.”

Stanley pretended to gag and Bill shook his head at Richie in disappointment.

“Dude. Gross.” Was Eddie’s response.

“Aw don't feel left out Spaghetti Man, you're just as yummy looking. I'd eat you too,” he teased and proceeded to give Eddie a noogie.

Eddie swapped him away and blushed at the possible innuendo.

The boys walked their bikes for a couple of blocks and chatted about other movies coming out soon.

Once the directions of each of their houses began to split off, the group began to separate. Bill was gone, then Stanley was gone, and as Richie was about to part ways with Eddie, he yelled out, “Thanks for hanging today, Eds!” And waved goodbye to his friend along with a toothy grin. 

Eddie waved back and returned the smile, glad that he didn't stay in bed all day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw... if one of the gang members were to help Richie realize what he meant to Eddie, who do yall think it should be? No promises or spoilers that is how its gonna go down! I'm just brainstorming


	6. Thus Merely Touching You Is Enough, Is Best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The f word (not fuck) is used once in this chapter as well as a brief mention of suicide  
For the last few days I have posted a chapter every day and have been having a blast doing it but I am getting behind on schoolwork and may have to force myself to slow it down a bit :(((((  
All I want to do is drink coffee in bed and write

It was the day after seeing Silence of the Lambs and Eddie went to the library. Now, this wasn't a usual occurrence for him. Being in the building makes him feel like he has an unfinished essay he needs to be working on. He didn't understand why people would come here in their free time to hang out, but that's exactly what Ben did. Eddie knew that if he ever needed to find Ben when he wasn't hanging out with one of the other losers, that he would be in a library. 

Eddie walks into the building and is greeted with a smile from the librarian at the front desk. She seemed friendly enough, but Eddie knew if you talked above a whisper she would practically apparate behind you and tell you to keep it down. 

Eddie scanned the seating area on the main floor and didn't see Ben so he then checked the history section, but Ben wasn't there either. Eddie resorted to walking down every aisle and eventually found Ben in the poetry section. He was about to tease Ben for being such a softie, but decided since he was here to get advice, he better be on Ben’s good side.

“Find anything interesting?”

Ben was frightened by his unexpected visitor and flinched. Once realising it was only Eddie, he relaxed again.

“Uh...yeah kinda.” Ben gestured to the book in his hand. “This one is a collection of E. E. Cumming’s poems.”

Eddie, being too immature to resist, snorted at the name. Knowing that if Richie was here he would have some wise-ass comment to make, but Eddie just wasn't clever enough to come up with them on the fly like trashmouth did.

“Do you have a favorite of his?” Eddie asked, trying to show support and interest in Ben’s hobbies.

“Yeah, I do actually.” Ben smiled real big, glad to have been asked. “It’s called I Carry Your Heart With Me. It's one of his most famous.”

“Is it in that book?” Eddie reached out his hand, silently asking if he could read it.

Ben flipped to a certain page eagerly and handed it off to his friend.  
\--------------------------------------------  
[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]  
BY E. E. CUMMINGS  
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in  
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere  
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done  
by only me is your doing,my darling)  
i fear  
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want  
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)  
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant  
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows  
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud  
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows  
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)  
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)  
\----------------------------------  
Eddie’s heart fluttered. “That's...really nice Ben. I like that one.” He handed the book back to Ben.

“I love the way he formats his poems. It's a bit unconventional, but it works. Even helps convey the emotion better, I think.” Ben went on.

“Yeah, it does,” Eddie agreed, not really knowing much about poetry or formating. He just thought about the last line. He thought about what it meant to carry someone’s heart with your own.

“Did you come here to get a book? Or were you trying to find me?”

Eddie was tempted to say he was only there to get a book so that he could chicken out of the conversation he came here to have with Ben. He decided to go halfway with the lie and buy himself some time. 

“I just wanted to get out of the house and figured i'd find you here and pick out a book.”

“Oh okay. Do you want to sit and read together?”

“Sure, but I wouldn't know what to read for myself.”

Ben looked to the poetry bookshelf he had grabbed his book from, searched for a moment, then found the book he had in mind and handed it to his friend.

Eddie took it but wasn't actually intending on doing any reading when both of them found a place to sit.

The boys found two available armchairs next to a window looking out at Derry. They took their respective places and opened their books. Eddie flipped around looking at the titles of poems for a while and practiced in his head how to bring up the topic of crushes without being weird.

Eddie came across a poem with the title of "Whoever You Are Holding Me Now in Hand.” His eyes scanned the page and stopped randomly midway through to read a particular passage.  
\------------------------------------------  
Or if you will, thrusting me beneath your clothing,  
Where I may feel the throbs of your heart or rest upon your hip,  
Carry me when you go forth over land or sea;  
For thus merely touching you is enough, is best,  
And thus touching you would I silently sleep and be carried eternally.  
\------------------------------------------  
Eddie closed his book. Telling himself it was now or never.

“So Ben,” Eddie started and Ben looked up from his own book. “You have experience with...liking people.” Eddie wasn't sure how to phrase this without embarrassing Ben.

“I'm not sure I know what you mean.”

“Like… with Beverly.”

Ben’s cheeks turned red.

“I mean… Yeah I guess so.”

“I'm trying to ask you...” Eddie was losing confidence with each word he said. He decided he was just going to spit it out before there was no more bravely left in him. “What was it like when you first realized you loved her?”

Ben was as red as a tomato and very clearly uncomfortable. The losers club knew about Ben’s feelings for Beverly, but no one ever talked about it out in the open like this.

“I guess I… it felt like I was levitating.”

Eddie made a face of confusion.

“I mean I felt...lightheaded. Why are asking about all this?”

“I just…” Eddie trailed off. “I don't know.”

“Is there someone you love?”

“God Ben!” Eddie sputtered. “Fuck I don't know if I love anyone ive just been thinking about someone a lot. I'm just confused mostly. Don't go throwing around the L word this is hard enough for me to talk about.”

Ben laughed at Eddie’s outburst. Behind the two boys appeared the librarian and she gave a very harsh “shhh” to the boys.

Ben was still chuckling lightly. “Well I think that's awesome you like someone. I've never even heard you talk about anyone that way.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. 

“Do I know them?” Ben asks.

“No, uh, they go to a different school.”

“Right,” was all Ben said, not believing Eddie at all.

“Have you told this person how you feel?”

“God no. And honestly, I never want to.”

“Why not?”

“It would ruin everything, Ben. Everything. Nothing would ever be the same.”

“Maybe things wouldn't be the same, but you don't know if that would be a bad thing.”

“Yeah, like confessing to Bev has done you any good,” Eddie mumbled. The second he said that he knew it was a dick move and regretted it.

“Well you know asshole it has actually done me some good. I'm glad Beverly knows I care about her.”

Eddie apologized ashamed, "Sorry, Ben,"

“Its fine. I know this stuff is stressful, but you shouldn't get up in your head so much about it. Sometimes you just need to act.”

“That sounds destructive.”

“You know I wrote Beverly a poem once?”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “No way.”

“Seriously, I did! I don't even know if she knows im the one that wrote it, but she keeps it hung up on the corkboard in her room. She must look at that poem at least once everyday and knows someone out there cares a whole awful lot about her. And that brings me a lot of happiness.”

Eddie wondered what the point of writing a poem for someone was you didn't get to take the credit.

“Maybe you could write this person a poem,” Ben proposed, not entirely serious.

Eddie looked horrified at the suggestion and Ben laughed. They were shushed again.

“Do you want to get out of here? Go get some ice cream or something?” 

“I would fucking love some ice cream right now," Eddie concurred

Before they left, Ben checked out the book he was reading. Eddie even checked out his as well. He wanted to finish that poem he started before.

The two boys sat together on a park bench licking their ice cream cones and watching kids play kickball.

“Can I see that book?” Ben referred to the one he picked out for Eddie in the library. He handed it over.

Ben read the cover out loud. “The Calamus poems by Walt Whitman.”

“I dont know why i checked it out. I guess Ive just been really bored at home and needed something to kill time with.” Eddie said, defending himself though he hadnt been accused of anything.

“You know Walt Whitman was gay? Of course, they didn't call it that back then, it was the 1800’s.” Ben informs Eddie, still looking down at the book.

“No,” Eddie said, trying to sound as neutral as possible. “I didn't know that.” He wasn't sure what direction Ben was going to take this in. He didn't know if Ben was going to start throwing around the word faggot in a tone of disgust like many kids at their school do.

“Yeah, he was. Many of these poems are written to this man he loved for many years named Peter.” Ben didn't seem to be speaking with hate, he appeared to merely be relaying information to another. Still, Eddie was on edge. No longer licking from his ice cream cone. The icecream began to drip down his hand like the sweat down his back.

“There is even this letter I read once at the library that Walt wrote to Peter. Walt was writing about how disappointed and heartbroken he was in Peter for speaking of wanting to commit suicide. He wished Peter to get well and promised that if he was not better by the time Walt got back to him, he would find a place for them to live and dedicate themselves entirely to Peter’s health and wellbeing. You asked me earlier about what it felt like to know I was in love. I guess it was like that. Wanting to dedicate yourself to someone’s wellbeing.”

Eddie took a wet wipe from the few he kept in his fanny pack and wiped off the dripped ice cream from his hand. Eddie knew he was the one to start the subject of liking someone earlier, but Ben talking about this Walt and Peter scared him. Did he know? Did he hand Eddie this book in the library because he knew?

Ben slid the book back to Eddie across the bench. 

“I know you and the guys all tease me for being a romantic, but I can't help it. I think love is a beautiful and wonderful thing. In all the forms it comes in.”

He knew. Eddie knew that Ben knew now. He couldn't be sure Ben knew the exact boy of Eddie’s affections, but he couldn't be very far from figuring it out if he hadn't yet. The thing that surprised Eddie though, was that he wasn't scared anymore. He was relieved. He felt a weight lifted off his shoulders. Even if he never had the courage to disclose to another living soul again about the gender he preferred to spend his time thinking about, one person knew. And that one person accepted him for it, he even supported him.

“Thanks, Ben.” Was all Eddie could think to say. But the word “thanks” would never hold enough gratitude in its meaning for what Eddie felt for Ben in this moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything I said about Walt Whitman in this chapter is true! He is one of the great American poets of the 1800's and spoke often of sexual relations and declarations of love to "comrades" in his works  
Here is a link to read to the letter I am talking about in this chapter between Walt Witman and his lover Peter Doyle: https://poets.org/text/love-letter-peter-doyle-walt-whitman


	7. Yes, You Dumbfuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took a few days to come out. Writer's block :///  
I'm gonna be stuck in a hotel room for the next couple days so I'm hoping to get a lot of writing done then

Richie was sat at home feeling a bit miserable. When he got home from the movie last night, his throat was starting to hurt. When he woke up this morning, he had a full-blown cold. Richie hated being sick. He always got the worst headaches and needed to turn off all the lights and keep his blinds closed or the headache got worse. He was sat in his room sipping on a glass of water his mother brought him, bored out of his mind. He wanted to go outside and find something to do or someone to hang out with. Really, he wanted to go out and hang with Eddie, but he knew if he got within 10 feet of the boy while he was sick, then Eddie would flip out on him

Richie decided to do the next best thing and give Eddie a call. Man, he was so glad his dad decided to invest in a cordless phone for the family so Richie could take the phone to his room and not have to have a conversation in the middle of the house for everyone to hear. Richie closed his bedroom door, phone in hand, and sat on the ground with his back against his front door.

Richie dialed up Eddie. After a couple of rings, the dreaded voice of Eddie’s mother answered the phone. 

“This is the Sonya Kaspbrak, may I help you?”

Richie rolled his eyes at the polite tone.

“Hello Ms. Kaspbrak, it’s Richie. Is Eddie there?”

Richie could practically hear the polite mannerism drain from Ms. Kaspbrak right when he introduced himself. Out of all of the losers club, Sonya disliked Richie the most. In her eyes, Richie always seemed to be the one getting Eddie into the most trouble,

“Eddie isn't home right now.” Ms. Kaspbrak said quite matter-of-fact.

“Oh. Well, where is he?”

“Library.” Was all Ms. Kaspbrak said, then she hung up the phone. 

Fucking bitch, Richie thought. He was sure she was lying, because why the hell would Eddie be at a library during school break? He decided to try again in an hour or so. Maybe he could annoy Sonya into letting him talk to Eddie.

Richie’s nose began to run so he got up to grab a tissue off his desk. Blowing his nose released some pressure in his sinuses and his head felt slightly better, but not much so. He tried to think of someone else he could call to annoy.

Richie sat back onto the floor and dialed Stan. 

“Uris residence, this is Stan speaking.” Answered the familiar voice of his friend.

Richie chuckled at how formal his friend answered his home phone. “Hey, Stanley! What's up?!”

“Oh, hey Rich.” Stan sounded confused as to why Richie was calling him out of nowhere. “Not much. I’m just reading a book.”

“Sounds super exciting,” Richie responded sarcastically. “I'm home sick today and bored out of my mind, you have time to talk right now?”

“Oh, that sucks. Yeah, sure I got time. What kind of sick are you? Have you been throwing up licorice?”

Richie chuckled but stopped because that hurt his head more. “No, nothing like that. I think it’s just a cold. Killer headache though. It's almost worse than those headaches I get when you start going on and on about different types of birds and their migration patterns.”

“Doesn't sound as bad as the headaches I get every time you open your mouth.” Stan retorted.

Richie smiled, glad he picked Stan to call. But still, Eddie was on his mind. “Have you heard from Eddie today?” It was a slim chance, but he couldn't help himself from asking.

“No,” Stanley answered. “Should I have?”

“No, I guess not,” Richie said disappointed. “It’s just I tried calling him and his mom answered and said he was at the library. That bitch.”

“Why does Eddie being at the library make Ms. Kaspbrak a bitch?”

“Because obviously Eddie isn't at the library! I'm sure she's just hiding him away like she always does.”

“Not that I'm defending Ms. Kaspbrak, but Eddie could be at the library. Ben is always there and they might be hanging out.”

Richie huffed at Stan trying to come up with a logical explanation when obviously Ms. Kaspbrak was just being a bitch like always. 

“So, you and Eddie.” Stan started cautiously, knowing this wasn't exactly his place. “Did you guys make up? You guys seemed friendly enough at the movie.”

Richie seemed to have only just remembered that before the hug and crying in the clubhouse, which he has been obsessing over, Eddie had thrown him against a wall and Stan and Ben witnessed it. Richie felt the back of his head to see if the welt was still there, but it was gone.

“Yeah, we’re okay.” Was all Richie said. And he wanted to mean it, but that wasn't exactly true. Something was different now. 

“What was up with Eddie?”

“I was the one being an ass. It was my fault.” Richie said, automatically in defense mode for Eddie.

“Wow,” Stan said. “Richie admitting fault. That's a new one.”

“You're a dick.”

“But you guys are normal now?”

“I mean...” Richie stressfully twirled a curl through his fingers, “...not normal.” 

He felt the same conflict he felt before with Beverly. He wanted advice but knew he wouldn't get it unless he told the whole story. 

“Does Eddie ever hug you?” Richie asked out of nowhere.

“Um… not really. You're the hugger in the group. But Eddie and I don't make a point to avoid it, though.” 

“I just…” Richie was going to say how it hurts his feelings Eddie will hug anyone but him but realized how much of a pansy he sounded and stopped himself.

“Yeah, it sounds like you guys aren't back to normal yet.”

“Yeah,” Richie agreed, sadly.

“Have you taken cold medicine?” Stan asked, possibly to just change the subject, but the question truly was in Stan fashion. He cares an awful lot about his friends. Next, Richie bet that Stan would ask if he is drinking plenty of water and getting enough rest.

“I took some DayQuil and Tylenol this morning.”

“You could have gone with NyQuil, you need the rest. Are you drinking water?”

Richie laughed at Stan’s predictability, but again, it hurt his head to laugh and he made himself stop. “Yeah, buddy don't worry about me. I'll be right as rain by tomorrow I'm sure. I think I'll take your advice though and take a nap. Or drift in and out of fever dreams. Thanks for talking with me Stanny.”

“That sounds like a good idea. Call me if you need anything.” 

The two said their goodbyes and Richie crawled under his covers, but then threw off the covers because he was too hot. His body was covered in sweat and he knew he wouldn't be able to quiet his mind enough to get some rest. He couldn't stay inside today. He had to go out and do something, he hated staying inside all day. 

Richie threw on some jogging shorts and a tshirt. He thought about going over to Stan’s but knew he would fuss about Richie not getting rest and possibly getting Stan himself sick. Richie then thought about Eddie’s, but immediately dismissed the idea, knowing that like Stan but on a much greater scale, Eddie would flip out about getting sick himself. So, Richie decided to go to Bill’s. He rang Bill up and asked to come over, purposely not mentioning he was sick. He was sure Bill wouldn't care all that much. He definitely wasn't one of the germ paranoid types.

Richie snuck downstairs and as quietly as he could out the front door without his mother noticing. His dad was at work so he didn't have to worry about him. And then, already feeling less pressure on his head as he breathed in the fresh air, rode his bike to Bill’s. 

Bill only complained a little when Richie entered his house sneezing into his elbow, but understood Richie wasn't the “lay in bed until you get better” type of sick people. Richie waited in Bill’s room snooping around in his stuff while Bill went to fetch him some cold medicine. On Bill’s bedside table was sitting a superman comic. It was the same superman comic he had seen at Eddie’s. He must have returned it to Bill at the movies. Richie picked it up and sat on Bill’s bed, starting it from the beginning.

“You can't borrow that,” Bill said standing in his doorway, two blue pills and a glass of water in hand.

“I know, you dick, I'm just looking at it.”

Bill laughed and sat the water on his bedside table and the pills into Richie’s palm. Once Richie took the medicine, Bill sat beside him in bed, reading the comic as well.

Richie would glance over at Bill whenever he finished a page to see if he had also finished. He always had. Bill was a faster reader than Richie. It was a shame for Bill’s stutter, because in the world of written word he was a god. Bill could read a 700-page book in a day no problem, and Richie knew his friend wrote short stories, but Bill always refused to let anyone else read them. Richie was sure they were great though because his friend always got A’s on his writing assignments at school. Bill was great at anything he did, except talking, and Richie admired him. He bet Bill never got the same kind of dumb problems that he got. Richie wished he could be more like him.

“Rich?” 

Richie snapped out of it and saw Bill was staring at him. 

“Y-you done?”

“Oh, yeah,” Richie said in a spacey tone and turned the page. He guessed he had left Bill waiting.

“The medicine will probably make you t-t-tired. Tell me if you get sleepy and I'll give you the room to take a-a nap.” 

Richie assured Bill he would be fine but thanked him anyway. 

Richie couldn't get himself to focus on the comic anyone. He would give himself a minute to daydream and then turned the page without actually having read it, for Bill’s benefit. He could have just told Bill he wasn't in the mood and handed the comic off to him, but then Richie would have to find something else to do to look busy while he brooded. So this was a good arrangement. 

Richie bet that Bill would know what to do about Eddie. Beverly was a good listener and gave good advice. Stan was a great guy and could always offer his support, but Bill was a problem solver. Bill didn't sit around and talk about issues, he would go out to fix them. Richie has been carrying a weight along with him since the night at the clubhouse. He was so confused about what happened and how he felt about what happened. Since that night, Richie has just wanted to be near Eddie again and for things to be normal. He wanted to go back in time and stop Eddie from leaving the clubhouse in tears and comfort him.

Riched mindlessly turned the page again like he had been doing for Bill for the last 10 minutes when he recognized a familiar page. It was the page with Clark Kent and Lois Lane in an embrace. The same page Eddie had bookmarked. Richie decided to take that page as a sign.

“Hey, Billy, I need your help with something.”

Bill looked up from the comic at his friend. Not sure if Richie actually needed help or was about the say some dumb shit. Richie could tell Bill was thinking he would say dumb shit and followed up with, “And it’s no joke. I actually need advice.”

“Oh,” Bill said surprised. “Yeah. Shoot.”

Richie looked again at the comic and sighed. “It's about Eddie.”

“Is it abou-about what happened between you two at the clubhouse the other day?” Bill asked amused.

Richie’s eyes went wide, which were made even wider by his thick glasses, “How the hell did you know about that?”

“Stan told me.”

Richie scoffed. “Of course he did. The fucking gossip.”

“You guys both came to the movie together yeh-yesterday, so we assumed you guys made up or-or something.”

“Somethings going on with Eddie.” And myself, Richie added silently in his mind.

“Yeah,” Bill agreed. 

“You've noticed too? And I'm not even talking about the clubhouse thing I'm talking about the past few months something has been off.”

“Yeah,” Bill agreed again. 

Richie squinted at Bill. “Then why the fuck havnt you said anything? Have you even tried talking to Eddie?”

Bill scooted himself around to the other side of the bed so he could sit crossed legged and face Richie. “I've talked to him a li-little about it.”

Richie threw up his hands exasperated. “And what b-b-b-Bill?! What has he said?” 

“He’s just… depressed. We all get depressed sometimes.”

Richie wasn't very satisfied with that answer, and Bill knew he wouldn't be, but he couldn't very well tell Richie the truth. Or what he had concluded himself to be the truth. He didn't think either of his friends would be ready for that to be out in the open yet.

Bill had taken notice of Eddie the past few months just as Richie had. Bill noticed when his friend shied away from Richie. He noticed how Eddie never joined in on the talk about girls. He had noticed Eddie feeling lost lately, and Bill was pretty sure he figured out why. However, he also knew that was Eddie’s business and decided to stay out of it unless Eddie came to him personally.

Still, though, Bill couldn't contain his inquisitive nature of wanting to put together the puzzle pieces. “What happened between you guys after you kicked out B-ben and Stan?”

Here again, was this conflict within Richie. He had told himself he wasn't going to share this. He told himself it was private between him and Eddie. But this was Bill, and Richie couldn't keep anything from Bill for very long. Talking to Bill was like talking to a priest at confession. You end up confessing to things you didnt even know you felt guilty for.

“Okay, well,” Richie started off, floodgates ready to spill on this whole mess he felt inside of himself. “It’s this whole fucking touching thing with him. He pushes me away all the time like i'm gonna give him syphilis or something.”

Bill laughed, “Yeah, I've noticed.”

“Well anyways. I hugged him goodbye and he fucking grand slammed me into that wall. I was all like ‘okay this time i'm calling this shit out’ and I sent the guys home. I yelled at Eddie for being a dick and the dork comes over and…” Richie's face went red relaying this next part. He knew it would probably sound weird out of context. “...and he holds my hand.”

Bill raised his eyebrow, “He held your hand?”

“He shuffles over to me and fucking holds my hand. As an apology I guess. And I wasn't mad anymore. I felt pretty crap for yelling at him. But uh... anyways I give him a hug and he actually let me this time.” Richie sneaks a glance at Bill to see how he was reacting so far. Bill looked neutral and attentive as he usually did. No weirdness displayed on his face so Richie went on. Noting not to add the comment about Eddie’s green apple smelling hair. That part probably wasn't relevant to the story.

“Then um...he started crying. And I wasn't very helpful.” Richie felt a sadness wash over himself for Eddie for the hundredth time since that night. “He said he was sorry for being a bad friend then ran out. I don't know why he thinks he's a bad friend, but I didn't even stop him.”

Bill was silent and looked thoughtful. His silence was making Richie feel insecure and he wasn't sure if he should say something or let Bill think. 

After all the buildup, all Bill had to say was. “I don't know, Rich.”

Richie groaned. “Can you please give me anything useful? I kinda put my ass on the line telling you this shit. Eddie would kill me if he found out I told anyone he was crying.”

Bill was conflicted. He was a problem solver. And this was a problem he wanted to help solve.

“Richie y-you know Eddie...c-cares about you.” Bill offered, being as vague as possible.

“Sure, I guess,” Richie responded, confused. “That's part of why I dont get why he thinks he’s a bad friend.”

Bill stared at Richie hoping he would get the point without him saying it. Hoping to communicate it solely through eye contact, but Richie wasn't gonna get there on his own. Bill wondered that if Richie couldn't come to the obvious conclusion on his own, then maybe he wasn't ready to hear it yet. But there his friend sat on the other end of his bed, looking so helpless. 

Bill leaned forward and took the comic from Richie. He held open the picture of Lois Lane and Clark Kent to Richie.

“You see these two?” Bill asked.

“Um.. yeah I do.”.

“Don't you think when Clark wraps a-an arm around L-Lois it feels different to her than if anyone else d-did? That if Lois wanted to hi-hide her feelings from Clark, she would avoid him and h-his touch? Not to give herself away?”

Richie looked baffled at the turn this conversation took. “Are we still talking about how to help Eddie?”

“Yes, you dumbfuck.” Bill snapped, frustrated to be in this situation. Not knowing if he was doing the right thing.

“It kind of sounds like you’re about to give me the sex talk.”

“Is that what needs to h-happen for you to understand wh-what's going on here?”

“I gotta say, Billy, maybe it's the cold medicine, but I'm really lost right now.”

Bill tossed the comic to the side deeming his visual demonstration to be useless. He ran his fingers through his hair and prepared to shake up Richie’s world a bit.

“I-I don't know this for su-sure. Eddie hasn't expli-explicitly told me this himself, but I think he-he’s gay.”

Richie’s eyebrows furrowed forward. His need to automatically defend Eddie flared up again as it did earlier on the phone with Stan. “Why the fuck would you say that? He's our friend asshole you can't be going around making accusations about people like that.”

“No, Richie, y-you don't understand. In not trying to spread a ru-ru-rumor or suggest it’s a-a bad thing. I honest to god think he-he’s gay.”

"Where the hell is Bill pulling this from?" Richie thought to himself. He can't just go around calling people gay. That title will get you jumped in a small town like this.

“You better not have said this to anyone else. If the kids at school…” Richie trailed off, dreading to think about what they would do to his best friend if a rumor like this spread around.

“No, I haven't t-told this to anyone!”

Richie’s head began to hurt again. He leaned it back against Bill’s headboard and tried to imagine Eddie being...gay.

“I don't know Bill. He’s our friend. We’ve all been swimming in the lake together in our underwear. Eddie just doesn't seem the type.”

Bill cocked an eyebrow. “And w-what exactly is “the type” you're referring t-to?”

“Oh, Billy don't make me out to be an asshole I'm just saying...not Eddie.”

“Why not Eddie? What does th-this information even ch-change about how we view E-Eddie?”

“It changes…” Richie thought for a moment. “It changes nothing I guess. But it's just...something new.”

“Yeah, it is kinda new. But also n-not really, Eddie is still the same high anxiety dwee-dweeb we all know an-and love.”

“But It's not like you're even sure about it. He hasn't even told you that he is.” Richie was having a hard time imagining it. He felt like a real jackass thinking it, but it made him...uncomfortable. He wasn't even sure why. Like Bill said, Eddie was still Eddie. Richie would still like hanging out with Eddie. 

“I'm p-pretty sure I'm right.”

“But why are you so sure?”

“Because I know a guy that he likes. As more th-than a friend.”

“And who the fuck would that be?” Richie’s ears went hot. His heart sped up. Richie felt very... territorial all of a sudden.

Bill stared at Richie exasperated. 

“Rich...Eddie likes y-you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I was going to make Stan be the one to tell Richie, but after flipping through the book for insparation I remembered all of long paragraphs of Richie having a hard-on for Bill's leadership skills, how he wished he was more like Bill and stuff like that, so it made sense to me that Richie would only feel comfortable sharing that personal moment with his "leader"  
I really hope you guys liked how this moment played out! My fingers are crossed!  



	8. Richie Couldn't Get A Boner For Harrison Ford

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have now learned an important lesson not to promise a chapter will be out a certain day because this chapter is two days late! My apologies! I was all ready to post it when I said I would, but then suddenly realized that it sucked and had to redo it so hopefully this version does Not suck  
But anyway! I hope you all enjoy this next installment of teenage sexual confusion

Eddie was home from his outing with Ben around 6pm. The two took a walk around the park after their ice cream and played games with the deck of cards Ben had in his backpack. 

Eddie went into the living room and gave his mother her expected kiss on the cheek. He felt tension radiating off her like heat from a teacup.

“Mother? Is something wrong?”

Ms. Kaspbrak’s eyes didn't move off of the tv as she spoke. “That Richard boy called for you earlier.”

It never failed to piss Eddie off that his mother spoke of Richie with such contempt, but he knew better than to start an argument that would ultimately accomplish nothing. So he replied simply with, “Oh.”

Ms. Kaspbrak continued to stare at the TV, saying nothing else. Eddie waited in the silence for a moment, debating with himself whether or not to pry for more information. 

“What did he say?”

“Just that he wished to speak with you.”

“What did you say?”

Eddie’s mother finally looked away from the tv to her son in annoyance for his questioning.

“That you were out.”

Eddie knew that Richie probably assumed she was lying. He never trusted a word out of her mouth and told Eddie to do the same. But Eddie couldn't help wanting to stay on good terms and please his only parental figure.

Eddie gently stepped away from his mother towards the phone on the other side of the room that sat on an end table in front of a painting of birds, or “psittacosis carriers” as his mother termed them. Eddie picked up the phone, intending on calling Richie back, but his mother spoke up.

“I don't think that's a good idea, dear. It is almost supper. Best to call him back tomorrow.”

With blind obedience, but bitterness in his heart, he replied, “Alright mother” and set the phone down, going into this room to place his things away.

Eddie closed his bedroom door, ever so quietly, and then threw his fanny pack at his mattress in frustration. It bounced off and flopped onto the ground. Eddie plopped onto his bed and buried his head in his hands, self-soothing and telling himself all was well. Everything was fine. Everything is okay. 

Eddie leaned forward to pick up the fanny pack and place it onto his bed, fishing out his inhaler and taking a few deep breaths with its assistance. Once the anxiety started to subside within him, he took the book he checked out at the library, Ben’s recommendation, from his fanny pack. He was glad the book was small enough to fit there, so his mother wouldn't see it when he came in and asked questions about what it was about. 

Eddie stood up from the bed with the book in hand and sat at his desk. He flipped through the collection, reading poems here and there. The poet spoke candidly about his love and sexual relations with his comrades. It made Eddie feel an awful big knot in his stomach. The knot may have been jealous that Whitman could accept and write so freely about his emotions, but the knot may have also been something more inappropriate. Reading these poems felt naughty. He felt more naughty than he had when Richie came to school with a playboy magazine he stole from his dad and showed it to Eddie in the school restroom. And these were only written words! Descriptions of deep affection. The knot made Eddie extra fearful his mother might walk in on him at any moment. Though, seemingly the activity was very innocent. Eddie sat at his desk reading a book. A poetry book even! His mother should be proud of that fact, but if she knew the material of these poems, the precise reason Eddie liked them so, he couldn't even begin to imagine her reaction. In fact, because of the stress that came along with the thought of his mother someday knowing, he altogether refused to imagine it.

Eddie placed aside the book and took a school notebook out of his backpack that sat next to his desk. The backpack intended to be ignored until school started again. He took out his British Literature notebook. He flipped all the way to the back, past his scribbled notes on Beowulf and Achilles, to the very back where he drawled pictures of whatever his eyes fell upon during boring lectures. There were doodles of pencils, trees outside the classroom window, of his own hand, and doodles of Richie, who sat to the right and perpendicular to him in that class. Richie was always turning around to mouth something to Eddie, which he didn't get most of the time, but still smiled as if he understood and found whatever Richie said funny. It made him gleeful that whenever someone said something dumb or the teacher was going on about something mind-numbing, Eddie was the one Richie turned to share a private moment. Private moments with looks that said something along the lines of “can you believe this shit??”

Eddie turned to a doodle he was particularly proud of. It was of the back of Richie’s head and shoulders. A mess of dark curls and a peek at his patterned T-shirt that was mostly blocked by the chair he sat in. Though, of course, Richie couldn't smoke in class, where Eddie drew his friend’s hand resting on the desk that originally held a pencil (a pencil which was way too small that Richie had sharpened practically to the eraser, he got a kick out of doing such things) Eddie in place drew a cigarette. 

The drawn figure of his friend sitting at a school desk, facing away from him and holding a smoldering cigarette made him smile. In the picture, you could tell Richie was handsome. Sure, you couldn't see his face, but you could tell. He was handsome in a goofy shit-eating grin type of way. A handsome that held mischief behind his sparkling eyes. His shoulders were slumped and his head was tilted to the side. Maybe to someone else the tilted head was a sign he was listening to the teacher, but Eddie knew that not to be the truth. He was sure Richie was thinking about tv or music or skateboards he was shit at riding or some faceless girl’s boobs. 

Eddie could go back to the moment he drew this picture so clearly. He felt as if he was back in the classroom, wanting to somehow telepathically tell Richie to turn around so Eddie could scetch his big dumb glasses. And that big dumb smile. And the slight squint his eyelids made when he took a drag from his imaginary cigarette. But Eddie knew sketching the back of Richie was best. He would never be able to capture Richie’s face on paper. One, because Richie would never sit still long enough. And two, because Richie was a wonder only meant for the physical world. Nothing Eddie could sketch or Picasso could paint or Michelangelo could carve into marble would inhabit the same aura of Richie’s easy-going yet chaotic nature that he radiated and Eddie basked in like sunlight.

Eddie thought of Ben’s suggestion to write Richie a poem. The thought was so outlandish it made Eddie laugh. He couldn't imagine in a million years writing a poem and handing it to Richie. He didn't know if Richie would laugh and make fun of it or internally crumble in discomfort. Also, Eddie didn't know how to write a poem. He read Walt Whitman’s poems and they were beautiful and unashamed to express emotion, whereas Eddie was full of shame for his emotions and didn't know if he could bare to put them to paper.

Eddie looked again at his sketch of Richie. It wasn't great. It wasn't bad. You could tell what it was and who it was. Eddie bet that he could do better. He grabbed a pencil from a mug he got a few months ago at the Derry fair which he kept his writing utensils in. He thought back to when he won it. He was with all his friends. The losers club, of course. Mike played and won the game as well and picked out a small teddy bear. He could have played again for a bigger teddy bear, but he wanted to save his money to buy a churro because Bill mentioned he had never had one before. Beverly played and picked out a pin with a jar of peanut butter and a jar of grape jelly with the words “best friends” displayed across the top. It was childish, and she adored it, immediately pinning it to her overalls. Eddie then played and behind his back, his friends made bets on how he would do. To half of the losers’ surprise, Richie’s included, Eddie won and picked out a mug. They then teased him for picking such a boring prize, but Stan sided with Eddie and stated it was a practical choice, unlike a teddy bear or pin that served no purpose other than to look cute.

Eddie felt such endearment for his friends. Then suddenly, he remembered he had a picture from that day of Richie posing with a corndog. Eddie dug through his desk drawer until he found it. He had forgotten all about it and forgotten about Richie’s inappropriate pose in the picture, now remembering why he kept it at the bottom of a drawer where his mother wasn't likely to stumble upon it. In the picture, Richie was licking mustard off the corndog, looking up at the camera through thick lashes. It was impossible to take a serious picture of Richie because Richie simply couldn't take anything seriously. 

Eddie sat the picture up against the mug to use as a reference to get Richie’s features just right and tried to ignore the fleeting imagines of Richie licking something else that flashes through his head. 

Eddie imagined Richie, lazily laying on the hammock in the clubhouse, and began to sketch.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Back at Richie’s, the boy was lying on his back on top of the covers. Shirtless, covered in a sticky layer of sweat, and surrounded by tissues filled with snot, staring at the Star Wars poster that hung on the back of his bedroom door. 

Harrison Ford is handsome. Mark Hamill too. Yeah, Richie encouraged himself. They are both very handsome. But...Richie didn't want to kiss either of them. Richie couldn't get a boner for Harrison Ford. 

He turned on his side to look at the Bon Jovi poster that hung above his desk. Girls loved Bon Jovi. At school, they were always going on and on about how dreamy he looked. And yeah, Richie thought he was handsome too. But then he thought about kissing Bon Jovi. It felt weird. It felt forced.

There was this guy at his school. Real jock strap type. Dumb as a post. Hot as hell. He probably got so much cheerleader pussy. Richie tried to think about him. He even closed his eyes and began to palm himself over his red striped pajama pants to the thought of the guy’s muscles and golden tanned skin, trying to help himself feel something. Trying to force a connection between this football player and his arousal, but he felt nothing and stopped.

Then, Richie got off his bed and went over to his backpack. He pulled out the Superman comic. He snuck it from Bill’s room when he lied and said he felt tired and wanted to lie down for a bit. Richie flipped right to the page that seemed to be strangely recurring in his life the last couple of days. He stared at Superman, who was designed to be the epitome of a handsome male. But his eyes wandered to Lois Lane. That tight fucking skirt. It stretched over her remarkable ass. Her chest was half out in her button-up shirt. Cleavage on display. Richie felt himself reacting. Fuck. He threw the comic across the room in frustration, realizing 3 seconds after that Bill was already going to kill him for stealing the comic and if the comic was damaged he would kill Richie, then resurrect him, and kill him again. He cursed himself for never thinking things through and picked up the comic, smoothing it out and making sure it wasn't damaged then placing it carefully back into his backpack.

Richie laid back onto this bed, face down. Facing a reality he never knew he would be scared to face. He wasn't gay. He didn't think he was gay. He didn't like the guys that girls were going on and on about. He never caught himself wondering what it would be like to touch another guy’s dick.

Richie flipped miserably onto his back again. His throat hurt and he couldn't stop sweating. but that wasn't what he felt particularly miserable about. He thought of Eddie. His best friend. He thought of Eddie’s freckles and small hands. He thought about how wide his caramel brown eyes got when he was fussing over potential infections. Richie smiled at that thought. Then, thought about a few days ago, in the clubhouse, how Eddie held his hand and rested his head on Richie's chest. He thought about his hair smelling like green fucking apples and how when Eddie began to let go, Richie pulled him into a hug, not wanting to break up the contact just yet. Why did Richie want to hold onto Eddie for as long as possible? He wouldn't do that with Bill or Stan or Ben or Mike. He probably wouldn't do that for Bon Jovi. Just Eddie.

And Richie wished Eddie was here right now, laying next to him in bed. He didn't know why he longed for it. Because Eddie was his best friend? Because he simply liked spending time with the little dude? Yeah, maybe. 

Richie curled up in his covers, now suddenly freezing, and closed his eyes. Imagining Eddie laying next to him. He imagined them lying close to each other like they used to at sleepovers. His knee touching Eddie’s. Richie would be on his side like he always slept, his forearm laying in front of himself, resting against Eddie’s upper arm. Then, he imaged laying his arm across Eddie’s stomach. It came out of seemingly nowhere, but he liked that thought. It sounded comfortable. Next, he imagined taking his other arm and laying it under Eddie’s head. So Eddie could use his arm as a pillow.

Richie realized he was imagining cuddling now, and that didn't sound so bad to him. He took it one step farther. A big step. He imagined kissing Eddie. Richie’s face immediately flushed with heat and instinctively he made himself push away the thought. He wouldn't be able to look at Eddie the same if he did this. But then again, Eddie hasn't been looking at Richie the same for a while now, apparently. Fuck it, he thought. 

He imagined him and Eddie in the position before, staring at each other. He thought about bringing Eddie in closer and closer to himself until finally giving the boy a peck on the lips. He imagined Eddie’s face going red and chuckled to himself. He wanted to reach out and touch Eddie’s face. To feel the warmth of his blush, and in his fantasy he did. He held his palm to Eddie’s cheek and imagined the doe-eyed expression Eddie would probably have. Richie wanted to kiss him again. Richie wanted to pull him in as close as he could and kiss him. He wanted to kiss Eddie and run his hand under his shirt. To feel his soft skin. 

Richie’s eyes shot open, a little scared of where his mind was going without his permission. Scared of the rush it was bringing to his head… and to his pants. Richie didn't exactly know if he gay, but he was attracted to Eddie. He didn't really give a fuck about the label for it. He wanted to hold his best friend close to him and never let go. He wanted to make the fuck out with his best friend’s pink lips. He wanted Eddie, and as Richie learned only a few hours ago, Eddie wanted him as well. And as simple as a solution to this problem might sound to someone not at risk of having their life changed forever, Richie had no idea what to fuck to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to write a chapter with the whole losers club hanging out like in the first chapter with the movie at Bev's, but I'm not sure what I want them to be doing. Skipping rocks at a lake? Playing board games? Another movie? Ideas and suggestions, as always, are welcomed!


	9. Smell The Flowers, Blow Out The Candles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible trigger warning because I describe a panic attack in this chapter  
Who knew those mental health professionals were actually right when they said finding a creative outlet can help with anxiety and/or depression??  
I am getting a lot of fulfillment in writing this dumb little story.  
Thank you endlessly for reading.

Spring Break was halfway over, and the losers club could feel school coming back like the impending doom of a storm about to hit. With this impending doom, the kids felt as if they needed to have as much fun as possible within the span of a week. Each day a particular loser would find one of the others, and spend the day chewing the fat and fucking around together.

Getting all seven to hang out together was much harder. Trying to coordinate plans with seven individuals, getting them to agree on one thing to do and the same time to do it was no easy task, but when Beverly was determined, she got shit done. She called up each loser and stated that the club would be hanging out at the arcade at 12 pm on Wednesday. She didn't ask, “Would you like to go to the arcade at this time?” She knew that would get resistance and questions. She purposely stated, “The club will be at the arcade at this time, be there or be square.” She did this so whoever she called would assume she had already called all the others first, and if they didn't want to come, they would be the only one not coming. And no one wanting to be the only person left out.

Beverly’s evil genius worked, and at 11:50 am, half of the losers club were waiting outside of the arcade in the fresh spring air for their other friends to arrive. There so far was Beverly, Ben, Stan, and Eddie.

The four of them joked around that they were the punctual ones within the group and talked about what they had been doing since movie night a few days ago.

Stan said, “I’ve been bird watching mostly. All the birds are finally starting to come back now that it's getting warmer. The Robins are digging for worms again and the hummingbirds and orioles are drinking sugar water from the bird feeders in the park again. It's been nice. I tried taking Bill with me yesterday morning, but I could tell he was bored out of his skull.” He shrugged, “Not for everyone I guess.”

“It was nice of him to try it out,” Beverly offered.

“I might have to try to join you one day,” Ben suggested, seemingly truly interested.

“Yeah definitely. If any of you ever want to join me you're welcomed to. The thing is though, you just have to stay really quiet or the birds will get scared off.”

Ben, who spent most days in a library, didn't find the concept of having to stay quiet for a while too difficult.

“What have you been up to, Ben?” Beverly prompted, trying to keep the conversation of activities going.

“Well, I…” Ben blushed looking up at Beverly, “I've been keeping my streak of running each morning. Learned how to make a broccoli salad,” Ben was on a health kick recently. The club was proud of him for sticking with it and did whatever they could to be of support. They didn't care if Ben lost weight like his goal was, but the running and eating healthier gave him a new glow of confidence that was evident to whoever Ben spoke to.

“Though,” Ben gave Eddie an accusing look, “I did have ice cream with Eddie yesterday. Thanks a lot.” Ben laughed, not actually meaning it, he was the one to have suggested the ice cream in the first place. Eddie laughed too, though a little nervously. Over ice cream is when Eddie learned that Ben knew his secret. The secret he thought he worked so hard and well to protect.

“And you Eddie?” Beverly asked with a warm smile.

“Well, I saw an awful movie on Monday that I'm still trying to forget,” Stan shivered in agreement. “And I was at the park with Ben yesterday. Nothing too exciting.” Eddie added quickly. Though not a true statement. These past few days have been the most nerve wrenching and exciting days Eddie has had in a long time.

“What have you been up to, Beverly?” Ben seemed to have been waiting until the second Eddie was done talking so he could ask Bev. Which Eddie truly didn't mind, wanting the attention off of him anyways.

“On Monday I saw a movie too, but I guess I went earlier than you guys did. It was with that one girl who was my science partner a couple of weeks ago. Don’t think we’ll hang out again. She talked about horses the whole time. And yesterday my aunt and I went shopping at thrift stores for curtains and some other small things to decorate the apartment with.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun,” Ben swooned.

Beverly laughed at his interested. “Yeah, I guess it was fun.”

Just then, Bill and Mike came riding up on their bikes.

“Are we all here?” Mike asked while leaning his bike up against the wall, scanning the group.

“Richie isn’t here yet,” Eddie answered quick, perhaps too quick.

Bill gave Eddie a guilty glance, knowing what he told Richie yesterday was none of his business, but Eddie didn’t quite see the look with his eyes on the ground.

“Well, he was sick yesterday. He might not be coming.” Suggested Stan.

Eddie’s nose wrinkled at the word “sick” and a twinge of worry formed within his stomach for Richie.

“When I called him this morning he said he’d come.” Beverly was disappointed and her voice showed it. She was so close to having all seven here today.

“Well, maybe we can just go on inside and start just in case he doesn’t show up. He’ll know to look inside.” Ben proposed and everyone agreed. They left behind their bikes, Stan locking his up, and shuffled their way inside. Eddie shuffling in last, taking one last look at the road leading in from the suburbs to possibly catch Richie riding up. 

Each loser had their favorite games at the arcade. Stan liked Tetris, Mike liked Donkey Kong, Beverly like Frogger, Bill liked Space Invaders, Ben liked Super Mario Bros, and Eddie liked simple ol Pac-Man.

Stan and Mike were crowded around Bill, watching him beat his own personal high score in Space Invaders. Ben was hovering behind Bev, encouraging her while she placed Frogger, and Eddie was stood in front of the Pac-Man machine wiping down the buttons and toggles with one of the disinfectant wipes he brought along before he began to play. 

Eddie put in his quarter and got into position. He lead Mr. Pac-Man, avoiding ghosts and collecting all the pellets. He rounded corners, had close encounters, and swore under his breath the entire time.

“Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Fuck you red ghost shadow blinky whatever the fuck your name is!”

He was down to two lives.

“Okay. Goodgoodgood. Uh oh. Crap. Crap. Run! Run! Goddamnit.”

One life now.

“We got this. We got this. They ain't got nothing on us. This is easy this is so fucking easy why did I lose two lives? Oh crap.”

Pinkie was ganging up on Eddie. He was running away and having to take many turns which were slowing him down. Though, he was hopeful. Pinky was on his tail, but he had just a few pellets left in a corner to the upper right. Strategically he was making his way there, keeping his eye on the prize.

“Yesyesyesyes”

Eddie was so close. He was nearly there. His limbs tensed and he unintentionally held his breath in anticipation. So close. Nearly there. Fuck. Fuck. Just a few more jerks of the toggle and he would have the glorious release! The glorious release of dopamine from passing through to another level!

“Guess who?” 

And all of a sudden, someone’s hands were blocking Eddie’s vision, snapping him out of his near euphoria. He elbowed whoever was blocking his view hard in the ribs (earning a painful sounding whence) but it was too late, he lost the level. Eddie spun on his heels ready to yell at whichever of his dumbass friends lost the game for him, but unexpectedly came face to face with Richie. 

Richie was taller than Eddie, so normally they weren't face to face. The reason they were now being that Richie was hunched over, clutching his right side in pain.

“Fuck Eddie. Again?!”

Eddie felt at the back of his mind that he should be apologetic, injuring Richie yet again within 3 days. But also, it was pretty funny. And it being funny won over it being embarrassing in Eddie's mind. His hand flung over his mouth as he burst out laughing.

“You deserved that one, asshole! Didn't you see I was about to win?”

“Exactly why I blocked your vision! I was testing the limits of your skill in Pac-Man! The test was very revealing of the pent up rage you hold in that tiny body of yours.”

Richie straightened back up with a hand still clutching his ribs. Doing this, his eyes looked down into Eddie's and just as quickly darted them away to look at the pool of spilled soda on the arcade room floor. Eddie's freckles were just as evident sprinkled across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose as they were in Richie's imagination last night. He felt a flush of embarrassment and shame, as if his friend could have known what he did last night.

Stan snuck up behind Richie, trying to scare him, and loudly interjected. “You guys really aren't going to yell at each other in public, are you? It's one thing to do it around us, but around innocent strangers?” Stan was all for social etiquette.

Richie flinched at Stan’s sudden appearance and once recovered, declared, “We aren't yelling at each other Stanley. We are passionately expressing our opinions with one another on the art of Pac-Man.”

Stan glanced at the hand Richie held on his side. “What's wrong with you?”

Richie quickly removed his hand and stood up as straight as a board. “Nothing. What's wrong with you?”

Stan scoffed in good nature and rolled his eyes. “Are you still sick?”

Oh, right. Eddie thought. Richie was sick. “You really shouldn't be leaving the house, Richie. Even if the side effects are gone you can still have a dormant sickness and you could be making it worse and spreading it and-”

“So what?” Richie summoned some bravery and looked directly at Eddie. “You don't want me here, Eds?” Richie noticed how easy it was to look at Eddie when he was teasing him, because it was normal. Familiar.

Eddie blushed and took his turn to look at the soda spilled on the floor. Was it coca-cola? Pepsi? Cherry flavor?

“No I...do”

Mike suddenly came over, bouncing with excitement, “Guys, you have to come check this out! Bill is about the beat the highscore! Oh hey Rich.”

“Hey Mike.”

The boys started walking over to Bill’s game casually, but Mike was rushing to get back.

“About to beat his own high score?” Stan asked to clarify, confused by the level of Mike’s excitement.

“No!” Mike turned back with wide eyes. “The actual high score!”

Instead of walking, the boys now ran to Bill’s side and Beverly held out an arm to stop the boys from running too fast and bumping into Bill.

The ultimate high score was 5,275. Left by someone with the title “WET.” Bill was at 5,000. He had never even surpassed 4,000 before today!

Kids Bill didn't even know began to crowd and Richie told them to buzz off and give Bill some room. A bead of sweat dripped down Bill’s forehead. 5,135. He was very aware of how sweaty his hands were, but still tried to zone out of the world around him. All that existed in this world was him and the space invaders.

5,275! 

All the kids in the arcade screamed in excitement, including his friends! With all the celebrating, Bill immediately died, but it didn't matter! Because the new high score was now 5,283! The losers club was staring wildly at Bill all bright-eyed and congratulating him. It was a silly moment, because a score on a video game in a small town like Derry meant nothing, but everyone was so exhilarated and the air seemed light and fresh and young. It felt like summer even though it was only spring break.

Richie pulled Bill in close and whispered. “Did you cheat? Because if you cheated I promise not to tell.” Bill shoved him off and they both laughed. 

Once the pimply 20 something-year-old manager got bombarded with kids telling him someone beat the new high score, he prized Bill, very unenthusiastically, with a coupon for a free medium cheese pizza at the snack bar.

“Wow.” Ben stared at the small piece of paper. “That's gotta be the lamest prize possible.”

“It’s not even pepperoni,” Beverly said, disappointed.

“Still though,” Mike chimed in, “it’s free.”

The group agreed a free medium cheese pizza was better than no pizza. Bill cashed in his $7 value prize, as well as another $8 the losers all pitched in to buy a pepperoni pizza, at the snack bar. Then they all went to go find a booth in the eating area big enough for everyone to sit in.

On one side of the booth, sat Richie, Ben, and Beverly in that order. On the other side sat Eddie, Bill, Stan, and Mike.

The gang ordered a round of sodas, diet for Ben, and contributed to some of the soda spillage on the sticky arcade floor.

Once the pizzas were delivered to their booth, everyone barbarically grabbed for a slice of pepperoni. Everyone except Stan, who opted for cheese.

“You prefer cheese over pepperoni?” Mike asked surprised with a mouth full of sauce and bread and toppings.

Stan looked over his slice at Mike glumly, “No, but it's kosher.”

Mike made a show of looking around the dining area, "I don't see your parents here."

"And let one of my dad's spies report me to him? No thanks, man. Cheese is fine."

"Stanny, I got some meat for you thats kosher," Richie winked at Stan. Stan kicked him under the table. Eddie focused on his soda.

Sometime passed and the conversation took a turn into a heated debate.

“Obviously the best tool to bring on a desert island is a kn-knife.” Bill claimed with confidence.

“Sorry Stan, I think I have to agree with Bill on this,” Beverly said apologetically.

“Guys, you aren't thinking this through. Do you realize how much energy you are going to waste chasing after animals with a knife? With a fishing net, the food comes to you! Then you can conserve your energy for other things like building a shelter.”

“If I was on an island I would probably bring a book.” Ben announced. “I think I would go crazy if I didn't have any entertainment or outlet like a story to read.”

“If you brought a survival book then okay, I get it,” Mike reasoned. “But just a book? No other resource? You may as well use the book to start a fire. Fat lot reading is gonna do for you if you're freezing your ass off and hungry.”

“I can't believe none of you have even mentioned a first aid kit,” Eddie said in disbelief. “You are all going to die within days of being on that island from infection.”

Richie didn't have much to contribute to this conversation. He was acting his normal trashmouth self, at least he thought so, but whenever he snuck a glance at Eddie, he felt ashamed. Ashamed he knew something about Eddie that seemingly no one else did, except for Bill. Richie wished Bill had never told him. Maybe the less Richie knew about this, the better. After all, part of the information on finding out Eddie might be gay, was that Eddie might like Richie himself. This possibility made Richie feel insecure and aware of every action he took. Did he look dumb the way he chewed his pizza? Did he take too big of bites? Did he look like a pig when he ate? Was there sauce on his face he didn't know about? The nerves made Richie so wound up he sat his pizza down and put his hands in his lap. Not all that hungry anymore.

Bill also could be wrong, as Richie told him over and over again yesterday in Bill’s bedroom. Bill could have no idea what he's talking about, and making Richie all wound up and confused for no reason. 

Richie liked girls. And liking girls was simple because he was supposed to like girls. He accepted his fact so blindly and willingly that he never even considered the other option. But Eddie. If it was true. If Eddie liked Richie, then there were some reconsiderations Richie had to make. And he was up all night doing so. It was all so new to him. It was exciting. So different. And he couldn't do it with Harrison Ford or Bon Jovi or that football guy at school, but it was easy with the thought of Eddie. Richie thought maybe he could be playing tricks on himself. Convincing himself to feel something when he didn't, but the way his body reacted? The result? Richie had never faked that before, and he didn't think he did this time. 

Richie looked up from the abandoned piece of pizza on his paper plate. He looked up to Eddie who was happily munching away and listening to the newest debate Bill, Stan, and Mike were having about which stones were the best for rock skipping. Flat rocks? Round rocks? Small rocks? 

Richie gazed at Eddie and wondered, “Has he ever done that to the thought of me?”

“Rich? You okay?” Beverly asked with concern. “I don't think you’ve said anything in the last 5 minutes.”

“That has to be a record,” Stan mumbled under his breath, ignoring Mike’s logic that round rocks did it best.

Richie forced himself to be what they expected from him, the jokester. Easygoing. He stuck a tongue out at Stan and responded to Bev, “Yeah I'm good Bevey,” He took a big bite out of his previously abandoned pizza and spoke with his mouth full. “Just thinking about how to beat the highscore in Street Fighter and take all the glory away from Miss. Superstar over here.” He said referring to Bill with his half eaten slice of pizza.

Bill rolled his eyes, “Yeah right.” He said and grabbed for his second slice of pizza, this time it being cheese now that there was no more pepperoni.

Once the pizzas were gone and everyone finished their sodas, the gang stood up together, talking merrily all at once. They then dispersed within the arcade back to their own games.

Richie headed straight towards Street Fighter, digging out a hand full of quarters from his pocket. He plops in a quarter and got himself pumped up to the music.

Eddie stood watching Richie play from the sidelines. Admiring Richie’s fast reflexes and extreme focus. He smiles to himself because, of course, Richie would never be able to focus on anything unless it's a video game. He truly seemed in his element right now.

Eddie tried to watch the game, but really he was just watching Richie. His face, eyes squinted and focused and nose scrunching in moments of stress. His fingers, long and boney. Pale and strong. Mashed the buttons at just the right moments. Eddie then took notice of Richie’s sharp jawline. A clear pathway leading to his, as the kids at school called them, elf ears. But Eddie didn't think so. I mean, they were just ears. He didn't think a lot of them. But then he thought of Richie joking the other week about getting his ear or both ears pierced, because one of his favorite singers, Bon Jovi, had his left ear pierced. Then suddenly, Eddie thought a whole lot of Richie’s ears. He thought a piercing on Richie would suit him very well. Frankly, he thought it would look fucking hot. 

Eddie bite his lip and looked around the arcade, seeing if anyone had noticed him staring at Richie. Ben, who was waiting on a turn for Frogger after Stan, locked eyes with Eddie and quickly looked away, pretending as if he hadn't been watching. Right, Eddie remembered, Ben knows. Ben knows and if he didnt know who he was gay for yet, Eddie’s stairing at Richie was probably a good enough clue. Eddie bite his lip harder as punishment. Ben accepted him, sure, and it was freeing as hell in the moment for someone to know and approve, but upon further dwelling, Eddie wasn't exactly comfortable with his secret being out to someone. Ben was a great guy, but Eddie didn't know how well he could trust him with a secret. He could blurt it out to Beverly at any moment, and if Beverly knew, Bill would probably know next. And Eddie had so fucking clue how that would turn out. 

The pain on Eddie’s lip was sharp and a cold sweat started to engulf him. It was an icy chill over his whole body. He felt it coming. He felt the anxiety, the panic bubbling within him and desperately he just wanted to find a safe place. He felt as if everyone was watching him, though truly no one paid him a glance. Over and over in Eddie's head, he was convincing himself Ben told. He convinced himself Ben told someone and now everyone in his arcade knew his secret and were judging him. Convicting him to hell without even knowing him and spreading rumors he had aids behind his back. 

Eddie’s heartbeat was uncontrollable. Thumbing against his chest hard, as if physically knocking the breath out of him. He fumbled in his fanny pack for his inhaler. He felt his stomach almost literally drop to the floor when he realised...it wasn't there. What did he do with it? Why didn't he bring it? He quickly padded his pockets and they weren't there either. Eddie felt completely out of control of his own body. He couldn't breath. He felt lightheaded. It felt like he was having a heart attack. He was paralyzed in fear of something that wasn't there.

Richie’s full focus was on his game, only mildly aware Eddie was somewhere behind him watching. Eddie’s presence made him slightly nervous, but with a distraction like Street Fighter, he was able to keep it from affecting his game performance. He took this shit seriously and everyone knew it. 

Richie was on round 3 beating up that redhead dude when he heard a strange noise behind him. At first, it was unrecognizable and he ignored it, but when the noise made a hitchin sound like a hiccup, he immediately recognized it and whirled around to Eddie, forgetting the game entirely. Eddie was ghostly pale. Blood trickled down from Eddie’s lip to his chin, and onto the floor. His best friend's eyes were wide and darting around the room paranoid. Richie grabbed Eddie by the shoulders.

“Eds? Are you okay? Where's your inhaler?”

Eddie looked helplessly at Richie. He could feel his throat closing up and it made him want to vomit. He shook his head at Richie. 

“Fuck,” Richie whispered to himself, realizing Eddie didn't have his medicine. He would have taken it by now if he did. Richie looked desperately around the room to see where the other losers were. Each were distracted by games or eachother, not taking notice of what was happening to Eddie. A couple of other kids, however, were starting to take notice and whispered to each other while staring. Richie flipped those kids off. He grabbed Eddie by the elbow and mumbled a quick “follow me.” Rushing Eddie away from the loud chaotic interior of the arcade. Leading him outside and to the alley beside the arcade. Empty except for dumpsters and a stray cat meowing somewhere in the distance. 

Eddie looked around frantically, wordlessly protesting to being in this creepy alley.

Richie placed both hands back on his shoulders and gently pushed him to lean back against the concrete wall.

“Eddie, look at me.” Richie said determined.

Eddie looked up at him, eyes still wide, heart still pounding, breathless, mouth agape and caked in fresh blood, 

“You have to breath, okay? Breath in through your nose.” Richie took in a deep breath as an example. “And out through your mouth.” He breathed out, again as an example. “Remember what the doctor told you that one time? Smell the flowers, blow out the candles.”

Eddie mustered up all the air he could and took a pathetic breath in through his nose. As he did, so did Richie. Along with it, he mumbled to Eddie “Smell the flowers.” And when Eddie let out a shaky breath, much more like a sob with tears in his eyes from fear, Richie let his breath out at the same time, cooing “now blow out the candles.”

The two did this for quite a while. 

Smell the flowers, blow out the candles

Smell the flowers, blow out the candles

Smell the flowers, blow out the candles

Richie began to worry that it wasn't working and was trying to calculate in his head how fast he could bike to Eddie’s or the pharmacy to get him an inhaler and if he would be back fast enough before his friend passed out. But slowly, Eddie’s face began to regain color and his exhales were less shaky and more controlled. 

Eddie had his eyes closed for the back half of this ordeal, focusing on his breath and steadying his heart rate, not wanting to look at Richie. The whole time, Richie’s hands were still holding onto Eddie’s shoulders. A much-appreciated anchor to reality. His grip was firm, but not tight. Eddie vaguely thought about how earlier he was correct about Richie’s fingers being strong. 

When Eddie was sure he had his breath back and under control, he opened his wet eyes slowly, first to the pavement. Then, slowly looked up at Richie. Richie looked scared as fuck, eyes wide as hell, and Eddie laughed lightly. This change in mood made Richie smile.

“You’re okay? It worked?” He asked hopeful.

“Yeah,” Eddie said breathy, “I'm okay.” 

Richie sighed in relief and removed his hands off Eddie’s shoulders with a little reluctance. Eddie was slightly reluctant about it too.

Richie gazed out to the street and ran a hand slowly through his hair. Just now realizing how terrified he had been. After a few moments, he cocked an eye over to Eddie and the blood on his lips, chin, and now drops on his shirt.

Richie asked innocently the question he had been wondering, “Why’s your lip bleeding?” But immediately realised his mistake in telling Eddie, because Eddie hadn't noticed it yet.

Eddie lifted his hand and touched his bottom lip with the tip of two fingers, bringing them in front of his face to see fresh, bright red blood on his fingertips. Eddie stared at the blood and Richie tried to calm him from having another possible panic attack.

“Dude. No no don't freak out you're fine you probably just had chapped lips it's fine it's your own blood there's no need to freak out.”

Eddie wiped the blood on his shirt in disgust. He was embarrassed to know he did this to himself. Biting his lip too hard in his moment of panic. 

“I'm fine,” Eddie told Richie. Now that the panic attack was over, it was as if Eddie had just woken up from a bad dream. Looking around, he became fully aware of what led him outside and wanted the earth to swallow him. His friend had to drag him out of an arcade to help him get control of his breathing in an alley. He felt pathetic. And of course, it had to be Richie of all people.

Eddie, shoulders slumped and feeling completely drained, started towards his bike muttering, “I think I'm just gonna go home.” 

Richie, very suddenly, grabbed onto Eddie’s wrist, the act a little more desperate than Richie wanted to come across, but he didn't have much control of that grab in the first place. It was an instinct. It was the moment in the clubhouse all over again. Eddie was about to leave upset and Richie had a second chance to stop him this time. To help him.

“Why don't you come over to my place?” Richie offered, and when seeing the confusion on Eddie’s face, quickly added, “You know your mom will flip if she sees the blood on you. It's probably best if you get cleaned up at my place first.” Yeah, Richie thought. That was a good excuse.

Eddie was already mortified and tired by this whole ordeal and just wanted to hide in his bed for the next month, but he also knew Richie was right. His mother would probably bring him to an emergency room if she saw him like this. But going over to Richie’s house? The two of them alone? That hasn't happened in a long time. But Richie seemed so worried about Eddie. And the thought of cleaning his face in a public bathroom like the arcade's made his skin crawl.

“Sure, I guess,” Eddie replied, unsure.

Richie was instantly relieved at Eddie’s agreement. He was going to get things right this time. He was going to be a good friend to Eddie. And as messed up as Richie was about what Bill told him yesterday, his head now swimming in what may just be a rumor, and as dirty as he felt for what he did last night, he wanted to make sure his best friend was okay.

“Should we go tell the others first?” Eddie asked, looking at their other friend's bikes.

Richie shrugged. “Nah. They'll ask too many questions.”

Eddie laughed halfheartedly, okay with this conclusion. Certainly he wasn't in the mood for explaining the blood or his puffy red eyes.

Both got onto their bikes and Richie took off first, expecting Eddie to follow, which he did. All the way to Richie’s house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I was describing a hypothetical orgasm when Eddie was playing PacMan if you were unsure lol  
And in a dumb way, I did make the ghost chasing him the pink one as a metaphor of his fear for his own sexuality  
Cringy! But I'm enjoying it!  
I hope this was a decent chapter. I really hope I did justice to describing the feelings people can get when having a panic attack (I've only had one before). If I'm dead wrong, correct me! Much love <3


	10. That Tickled Dickweed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so queer and tired

The two arrived at the Tozier middle-class suburban residence. The boy in thick-framed glasses got off his bike and abandoned it on his freshly mowed front lawn.

Eddie was still sitting on his bike, feeling a bit drowsy and took a moment to smell the fresh-cut grass scent in the air. Sadly, the smell was obstructed by the metallic scent coming from the blood that covered his mouth and chin. Richie turned around and gestured for Eddie to get off his ass and leave his bike, which he did, but left his bike on the pavement instead of the grass. Mother said Eddie was not to be in the grass around this time of year or his allergies would act up.

Richie led Eddie through the house. Through a tastefully decorated living room and up a staircase lined with family photos and miscellaneous art. The Tozier’s weren't rich, but they kept up the appearance of being well off quite gracefully. Hidden behind bouquets of fresh flowers were bills for maxed-out credit cards. The parents tried to keep these things from Richie, but he knew. Sometimes when they thought Richie had fallen asleep, they would yell at each other extra loud and shreds of paper and, on their worse nights, broken objects scattered the floor. Richie would usually be the one to clean up these messes, though his parents never asked him to. In Richie’s mind, cleaning up the evidence of a fight would mean there was never any fight at all. This used to be something Richie would often confide in Eddie about before Eddie began to push him away. 

Eddie was lead to the upstair’s bathroom that was across the hall from Richie’s room. The bathroom was fairly clean, something Eddie’s anxieties forced him to scope out. There was a small pile of dirty clothes on the floor and a towel hung on the shower rod to be used again later. A supposedly environmentally friendly habit Eddie could not get himself to follow in fear of mold.

“Here,” Richie gestured to the sink counter, “Sit here.” 

Eddie had to push aside a few random objects to make room to sit. A comb, toothpaste, hairbrush, and shaving razor. Richie had to shave his upper lip every other day or else he would grow a thin whispery mustache the losers club loved to tease him for. Eddie did a little hop and sat on the cleared space.

Richie was looking for a fresh hand towel and a first aid kit he was sure the family probably kept somewhere. He hoped everything in the house looked nice enough to Eddie, though he wasn't sure why he cared. Eddie had been here plenty of times when the house was in worse of a state. 

Eddie was left a moment alone in the bathroom while Richie searched for these things. He felt silly being fussed over. He was more than capable to deal with his busted lip by himself. The extra care was also confusing. Richie was always the one telling Eddie he overreacted about such things, but now he was helping him with breathing exercises he didn't even think Richie knew and bringing him back to his place to help clean him up. It made him feel pitied. He could take care of himself. He wasn't pathetic. Should he just leave now while Richie was away getting the med-

“-this probably isn't as heavy-duty as the stuff you have at your place, but I'm sure it will work,” Richie said, reentering with a lunch box sized white box with a red cross over the up. Richie opened it on the counter next to Eddie and observed what was available inside. Richie didn't want to have to ask for help on what to do first. He, weirdly, wanted to impress Eddie by showing he knew what to do. 

“First we will,” Richie picked up the disinfectant ointment, but then glanced at the hand towel. He sat down the ointment and turned on the facet. “First we will wash off the blood with warm water so we can actually see the cut.”

Eddie silently congratulated Richie for doing this in the proper order. He watched as Richie ran the water with his hand under it, searching for the right temperature, then when seemingly satisfied, wet the towel. Richie turned off the faucet and went to start wiping away the blood when Eddie’s hand awkwardly blocked his. Eddie expected Richie to hand the towel off to him, not to do it himself. The boys both stammered-

“Oh you-”

“Yeah but no here-

“-nono it's fine I just thought”

“-well since you can't see it I thought-”

“-yeah I wouldn't clean it properly-”

“-but also the mirror so if you want to-”

“No. You do it.”

Richie’s grip unintentionally tightened on the towel and some water dripped onto his shirt. The water was cold. He put it under the facet again. Once warm, Richie slowly wiped the blood from Eddie’s chin. It was mostly dry, so Richie had to be a bit firm with the wiping, but watched Eddie’s face to make sure he wasn't hurting him.

“Can you turn your head up? You have some on your neck.”

Eddie looked up to the ceiling. Gently, Richie wiped away the blood, but to get a better angle he laid a hand on one side of Eddie's neck. Eddie’s shoulders immediately scrunched up to cover his neck and he... giggled? The sound took Richie by surprise and put a huge smile on his face. He hadn't heard Eddie giggle in forever.

“That tickled dickweed don't touch my neck!” Eddie was trying to sound angry, but he was flushed and embarrassed from his unexpected fit and was sure he sounded far from tough after that ungodly sound.

Richie was trying to contain his laughter and held a hand over his mouth. “Sorry, Eds! I won't do it again I just didn't know you were ticklish there.” Richie started back at Eddie with the towel, but quick like a snake Richie's fingers pounced to Eddie's neck, tickling him.

Eddie was laughing uncontrollably and thrashing with his legs and arms to push off Richie when he remembered, Richie has ticklish sides! Eddie purposely let up on kicking so Richie could get a little closer and then it was Eddie's turn to get some revenge. He tickled Richie's sides and the boy yelped! But still didn't give up yet on Eddie’s neck. With the tickling, Richie’s shirt was wrinkling up and his midriff was exposed. Eddie, cursed with gay curiosity, snuck a glance and that fatal mistake lost him the tickle war. Eddie let his guard down at the sight of dark curls peeking out of Richie’s waistband. Richie got in a few more moments of torturing Eddie, then finally let up when he began to get out of breath from laughing. Afterward, both boys were hot and giggly.

“Okay okay, I started that, but I promise it's over!” And at Eddie’s face of disbelief, Richie proclaimed, “Scouts honor!” 

“You were never in the Scouts jackass.”

“Yeah, but Stan was and he never shuts up about what different types of knots he can tie. That's gotta count for something. Really though you still have blood on your neck.”

Eddie still let out a chuckle every other moment, but let Richie do his work in cleaning him off. The blood was soon gone from his chin and neck and now Richie planned to clean off his mouth, where a good amount was caked on. It kinda looked like badly put on lipstick, which made Richie want to tease Eddie, but he decided to do it some other time. While Richie wetted the bloody hand towel in the sink, he asked, “Does it hurt?”

Eddie was not paying attention. Instead, he was thinking about the curls. How hairy could Richie be? Eddie wasn't all that hairy. They were the same age. “What'd you say?”

“Does your lip,” He gestured to Eddie’s lip, “does it hurt?”

“Oh.” He ran his tongue over the cut, which caused a sharp pain. It was a rounded crevice. It would be obvious they came from Eddies' own teeth. “Yeah, a bit.”  
Richie reached out his free hand to place on Eddie's shoulder, but before placing it there asked, “Can I? For balancing? I don't want to just be jabbing you in the face with this.”

Eddie agreed nervously, “..sure.”

Richie placed his hand on Eddie’s shoulder and ever so gently dabbed the washcloth on his lips. At first, only looking at his lips and where to dab the towel, but then Richie looked up and the two locked eyes. Richie thought of last night when he imagined his hand to Eddie's check and looking into Eddie’s eyes. Eddie’s eyes right now looked just as doe-eyed as he imagined. It felt like... too much.

Richie, without any warning, removed the rag and tossed it into the sink, “It's mostly gone, you can get the rest yourself. I'll go get you a fresh shirt.” Then Richie left the bathroom, not taking another glance at Eddie.

Eddie internally panicked as if Richie knew exactly what Eddie was imagining a moment ago and was disgusted by it and left. Did Eddie’s eyes give it away? Fuck, Eddie though about keeping his eyes closed while Richie cleaned the blood but thought that would be even weirder. This is ridiculous, Eddie thought. There is no way Richie knew what was going on through Eddie’s head. He was just being paranoid like he was in the arcade. No one knows. Except for Ben, whispered a voice in Eddie’s head. Eddie signed in frustration and slipped off the counter.

He completed cleaning the blood from his lips, ignoring the rag. He splashed water on his lips and gently rubbed away the dry blood. The cut was as Eddie imagined it. It was a crescent circle of teeth. An obvious tale that he bit himself. People would be spreading nasty stories about it in no time. 

“That Eddie kid has rabies and bite himself! Be careful, he might bite you too!” 

Eddie hoped it would heal before the end of spring break. Though that wasn't likely. Staring at it in the mirror, it began to make him a bit sick to his stomach. It was a deeper cut than he first imagined. It was a cavern of redness that began to drip more blood as Eddie stared at it. He hoped to god he didn't need stitches. Eddie put some disinfectant ointment on a bandaid, and then placed the bandaid over his lip. Trying as best as he could to cover most of the wound, the lip is a weird surface to put a bandaid on.

Richie returned to the bathroom with his navy blue SeaWorld hoodie. It was oversized on Richie and was sure to be oversized on Eddie. The hoodie had been well-loved. The colors were softer in areas like the elbow and edges of pockets. There were even a few holes here and there, but nothing too big to take away from the warmth of the hoodie.

Eddie, embarrassed at the thought of wearing Richie’s clothes, denied the hoodie. 

“Oh come. The house his chilly and dad will kill me if I touch the thermostat. And I know you don't want to wear a bloody shirt.”

Richie tossed the hoodie at Eddie and left again before Eddie could say anything, disappearing into his room. Eddie considered wearing his shirt under the hoodie, so he would have some layer between his skin and Richie’s clothes, but decided against it because he might get blood on the hoodie. So Eddie took off his shirt, revealing his naked pale chest to Richie's bathroom mirror. Eddie looked at himself. He was never sure what to feel about his body. He was lean in places but overall soft. It was hard to consider what other people might want him to look like. What do guys look for in other guys? Is it just like girls? Do they want muscles, body hair, and a bad attitude? Well, Eddie didn't have much of those things. Except for maybe a bad attitude when he was having an off day.

Eddie slipped the oversized hoodie over his small frame. It was like being wrapped in a blanket. It felt heavy. Eddie was wearing his track shorts today, which were completely covered up by the hoodie. It was as if he was pantsless. He looked a little ridiculous, but he was comfortable. This is something he would probably wear to bed. Which reminded him, he felt exhausted. Panic attacks so bad you think you're having a heart attack apparently really take it out of you.

Eddie walked shyly into Richie’s room, slightly embarrassed by his appearance. It looked as if Richie was just in the middle of cleaning because he stopped mid-step while throwing away some used tissues into a bin. 

“Hey spaghetti, looking good.” He quipped, then continued to clean. Though, it was more of just carrying things from one pile to another. Busy work.

Richie stopped his “cleaning” and eyed Eddie, pointing to his lip, “Band-Aid work good?”

“Yeah, It should be fine. It's just bleeding a little. I have to think of what to tell my mom.” 

Richie scoffed at the mention his Eddie’s mom, then noticed Eddie was still standing in the doorway, not yet entering.

"You sure you're feeling okay now?"

"Yeah, I'm just-" Eddie faltered for a moment, taking a glance at Richie’s bed, "-just really exhausted." He said truthfully.

"Oh. Yeah, that makes sense.” Richie looked at his own bed and scratched his head. “Do you want to lay down? I can get you some water."

Eddie laughed nervously at Richie's hospitality. "Um. I'll take some water."

Richie seemed glad to be told something to do. "Sure buddy. Be right back." He left the room to fetch water.

Eddie stood, still, in the doorway, unsure of what to do with himself. He cautiously walked over to Richie's bed and sat down. It was stupid how nervous he felt. He had been in this room countless times. Slept over countless times. But it had been awhile.

Eddie looked down and petted at Richie's covers. On top was a quilt. He thinks one of Richie's grandmothers made it for him for Christmas if he remembered correctly. And Richie had two pillows, though only ever slept with one. Richie would lay down to sleep and always discarded one of the pillows off his bed. They were such good friends, Eddie knew many of Richie’s habits.

The bed was very comfortable to sit on and looked even more inviting to lay down on. And Eddie was so tired. Richie would be a few more moments, it wouldn't be weird if Eddie lied down for just a moment. The split second that Eddie's head hit the pillow, he felt his entire body relax. 

Shamelessly, Eddie smelled the pillow. It smelled like Richie. That same musty and smokey scent that Eddie couldn't get enough of. He felt surrounded by Richie. By his smell and his clothes and his things. The whole atmosphere was Richie. Eddie, truly, felt in heaven.

Having lost himself in the moment, and almost about to doze off, Eddie forgot to listen for Richie's footsteps up the stairs. Richie came in through the bedroom door and startled Eddie, who sat up quickly in the bed. About to start rambling why he was laying down, but Richie spoke first, setting the water on the bedside table.

"Really Eds, lay down." He gently placed a hand on Eddie's shoulder and pushed him back down to lay on the bed. "It's fine, really. You don't have to sleep, but I know you're tired."

Eddie didn't say anything back, just laid back down obediently and looked up at Richie gratefully.

"I'm gonna sit over there," he pointed to his desk chair "and play on my Gameboy."

He turned and grabbed his game off a shelf, sat at his desk, and then looked back at Eddie unsure.

"Or I can go into the living room and you can have the room. Yeah, it would probably be hard to relax with me here anyway." Richie stood back up, but Eddie protested.

"No! I mean...no. No it's fine. It's your room. You can stay," in Eddie's head he was really saying, “Please stay.”

Richie gingerly sat back down at the desk. Eddie slowly closed his eyes. Richie looked a few moments at Eddie, but realized he was being creepy and looked away. He opened up his Gameboy and put the volume down to mute.

Richie stared at the screen. Not starting the game. He stared at the game and took peaks above his GameBoy to look at Eddie. He looked so comfortable. He was curled up on Richie’s bed, on top of the covers, in Richie’s hoodie. Eddie’s back rose and fell, showing he was taking deep, sleepy breaths. Richie couldn't see Eddie’s face, because Eddie hid behind his hands stuffed in the sleeves of the hoodie. His hands were balls of fabric in front of his face. He looked so peaceful.

Riche wondered what caused Eddie’s panic attack in the arcade. Eddie got breathless for seemingly no reason sometimes, but this was something much more serious. What made Eddie panic like that? Richie was so scared back there. He thought Eddie was going to pass out or something worse. He looked like shit. At one point his face was blue. And the bright red blood against his pale skin. It was awful. Richie never wanted to see Eddie like that again. 

Ring.

Richie jumped at the sudden noise, and so did Eddie who looked up from behind his fists in the fabric.

“I'll get it,” Richie announced and quickly left to answer the phone before whoever it was hung up.

Ring. Ring. Ring-

“-Hello?”

“Richie, what the fuck? Where did you and Eddie go? You two just disappeared we were all worried.”

It was Stan. He sounded frantic like a mother checking up on her daughter late for curfew.

“Heya, Staney! Sorry to make you guys worried. I started to feel sick so Eddie rode home with me to make sure I got here okay and didn't blow chunks all over myself.

Stan was quiet for a moment, meaning he was pondering something. Richie rolled his eyes.

“Eddie is with you? While your sick?”

Oh shit. That's right. Eddie wouldn't dare be the one to offer to take Richie home if he was sick. He would have gotten someone else to do it.

“Well, I'm not that sick. It was more of just a headache.”

“...Okay, well we all left the arcade a bit ago and I just got home. Do you need me to come over? Relive Eddie of breathing into a paper bag or whatever?”

“No buddy we’re all good here. He just left anyways.”

“Oh, okay.” Stan was silent again,

“Well, okay. Catch ya later alligator.” Richie was about to hang up before Stan could respond, and he knew it would be rude, but he really didn't feel like explaining to anyone why he and Eddie ditched. But before Richie could hang up-

“-Wait, Richie?”

Richie signed loud and annoyed “Yes, Stanley?”

“I'm glad you and Eddie are cool again.”

Richie took a moment to respond, confused, “Yeah man. I am too.” Again, Richie was going to hang up, but Stan seemed talkative today.

“Because you guys really get along. You two are good for each other. And I know Eddie-”

“-What the fuck did Bill say to you?” Richie felt his blood boil. He automatically jumped to the conclusion Bill was sharing his theory about Richie’s best friend with others. He wanted to yell into the phone, but kept his tone at a harsh whisper so Eddie wouldn't hear upstairs. “Because you guys don't know shit! Okay? You asshats are always assuming you know shit about people when-”

“-Richie. Shut up. I wasn't accusing you or Eddie of anything.”

“...but I bet you were thinking things.”

“I'm always thinking things. You should try it sometime.”

Richie laughed in spite of himself. “Okay Stan, I'm sorry for snapping, but seriously did Bill talk to you? About Eds or something?”

“I’m just trying to offer my support with… whatever's going on. Tell Eddie I said ``hey.”’

Before Richie could argue that as he said before, Eddie went home, Stan hung up on him. Richie was pissed off. He didn't know if it was directed at Bill or Stan or himself. 24 hours ago he thought Eddie was depressed and acting weird because of maybe some shit with his mom. Nothing like this. And Bill dragging Richie into the middle. Making him think, and want things, he never even considered before. Richie decided he should just ask Eddie. Put the dwelling on a possible meaningless rumor to rest. This was getting ridiculous. And confusing.

Richie marched, softly, up the stairs to his bedroom. Going to find out once and for all. He didn't agree with Bill’s philosophy of waiting for Eddie to talk about it when he was ready bullshit. Eddie didn't have to tell the world he was gay if he wasn't ready, but he should tell his best friend.

Richie marched into his room and, though he knew Eddie was going to be in there waiting for him, stopped dead in his tracks when he saw him. Eddie was sat up in bed, his exposed legs crossed, holding the glass of water Richie brought earlier with both hands and taking small sips, careful to avoid getting water on the bandaid on his lip. The hood from the hoodie was now over his head, but because the hoodie was so big, the hood came down practically over Eddie’s eyes. When Eddie noticed Richie come in, he pushed the hood back slightly so his vision wasn’t blocked. Richie felt butterflies in his stomach. Completely forgetting what he was marching in here so determined to do.

“Who was it?” Eddie asked between sips of ice water. Eddie was sat in bed the whole time trying to listen in on the call, sure that it would be one of the losers calling, but Richie was too far away for him to make out anything.

Richie forgot words. Richie forgot breathing. Richie stared at the boy in his bed. 

Eddie felt suddenly insecure with Richie staring at him. Where his shorts too short? Was something showing? He looked down at himself quickly and then back up at Richie asking, again, “Who called?”

“Uhhh...No one. Stan. I mean Stan. Stan called.” Richie pried his eyes away and slumped over to his desk chair. What the hell was wrong with him? Get a fucking grip, he told himself.

Eddie put the half-empty (or half full?) glass of water back on the nightstand. “Were the guys worried we disappeared?”

“Kinda. But it’s fine. I told them I got a migraine and you rode with me home to make sure I was okay.”

Eddie snorted, “Good cover up. Makes me sound like a real gentleman.”

Richie smiled, “Well, you are a gentleman, Eds.”

Eddie, half consumed by the hoodie, smiled back at Richie, “Don't call me that.”

For a moment, the two just looked at each other, smiling.

Eddie felt like things were normal again. Like they were a few months ago before he had to go and ruin it all. He felt so lucky to have what he thought he threw away, to have his best friend. 

Where’s Eddie felt like things were back to the way they used to on some level, Richie was on a whole new plane. Last night a door opened up in Richie’s brain. And behind the open door was Eddie Kaspbrak. An Eddie Kaspbrak Richie never saw before. 

“Are you going to take a nap?” Richie asked with a plan in mind.

“I don't know. You might draw a dick on my face or something if I do.”

“How about I nap too. Then you'll know I won't do anything. I'm pretty tired.”

Eddie tried to figure out if he was really going to let him sleep or if he would play some kind of prank, but Trashmouth just couldn't be predicted. Eddie being too tired won over him overthinking Richie’s proposal.

“Okay,” Eddie said, then layed back down in the position he was before.

Richie walked over to the side of the bed Eddie was at. “Don't you want to be under the covers? Monsters will get you if you aren't, don't you know that?” Richie made an attempt to tickle Eddie, but Eddie was quick and slapped Richie’s hand away.

“Shut up asswipe,” But still, Eddie wiggled the covers out from under him so he could get underneath. When he was pulling up the covers, Richie grabbed onto them and laid them over Eddie himself. Eddie’s cheeks went pick.

Richie took his glasses off and placed them next to Eddie’s glass of water, then walked to the other side of the bed and did something Eddie did not even consider when Richie said he would take a nap as well. He got into bed next to Eddie. They didn't even do this when they used to have sleepovers here, one would always sleep on the floor or both would sleep on the floor. Richie’s bed was a twin, not meant for two people. Richie laid under the covers with his body facing his friend’s. Eddie’s face held a look of obvious confusion, but Richie just said, “Night night Eds.” And closed his eyes. 

Eddie was very aware of Richie’s body heat, and he laid looking up at the ceiling as stiff as a board. Richie’s knee was just barely touching Eddie’s, and he was sure Richie must be at the very end of the bed giving Eddie his space, because no way a twin could give them so much distance. Whether the distance was a disappointment to Eddie or not, he wasn't sure. Torn between wanting to touch Richie, but also knowing it was wrong to. He just felt like he got back to a normal place with Richie. What Eddie was sure of, was that he was never going to fall asleep. Not with the boy he spends 90% of his time thinking about under the clovers with him. But to make an attempt, Eddie closed his eyes. 

Richie was glad Eddie hadn't told him to fuck off just yet. He really wasn't sure if Eddie would let him get in bed with him, but he did. And now Richie was almost sliding off the side trying to give Eddie as much space as possible. Every few minutes, Richie would scoot in a little closer to lessen his chance of fall off the bed. At least that's what he would tell Eddie if he asked. But really, Richie’s plan was to get into the same position he imagined with Eddie last night. 10 minutes into laying down, he succeeded. Legs touching, forearm leaning against Eddie’s upper arm. Richie didn't go as far as to lay his arm over Eddie’s stomach and behind his head though. 

Richie really wasn't tired at all, he wanted to experiment if he felt the same in real life as he did last night when imagining this scenario. And judging by his nerves that seemed to be on fire, he did. So Richie guessed this was something he just had to accept now, like he concluded last night, he wanted Eddie. But would his friend even want him? He never even asked the question, “Eddie, are you gay?” If Bill fucked up Richie’s brain for no reason and Eddie wasn't gay and didn't like him, and Richie now wished to be close to his friend, among other things, where did that leave him?

Richie peaked open his eyes to find Eddie’s were closed and his breathing was steady. Possibly asleep. Richie closed his eyes again. Frustrated that he would be lying here for the next half hour or even hour not able to sleep. When all of the sudden, Richie felt movement under the covers. Something searching for something. Then, Richie felt Eddie’s gentle hand make its way to his own. Gladly, Richie grabbed on. He opened his eyes to Eddie, but his friend’s eyes were still closed.

Eddie was awake, but if things went south he sure as hell was going to blame it on sleep. It took him some time laying there, but he worked up enough courage to reach out for Richie. Eddie’s courage paid off, because now under the covers, the two boys laid close together holding hands. Something Eddie never dared to even consider a possibility. He wasn't sure why Richie was complying, but Eddie didn't want to question a miracle. 

Eventually the two did fall asleep. Both in a state of bliss and comfort. Not yet worrying about how to address what was happening. Both simply content in being together in this moment, touching each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to suggest anything, if you want to kindly tell me something about this sucked, if you want to tell me to just get on with it and make them have a heated make-out session already then please leave a comment and let me know
> 
> Next time I write a fanfiction I'm thinking I might write the whole ass thing then post it bc I keep wanting to go back and change things but I have to live with my 2 am decisions  
But then I wouldn't get to ask people what they think about each chapter before I write the next  
Double-edged sword  
Goodnight


	11. It's Pinewood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the last few updates I have posted every three days. Hoping to stick to that schedule!

Richie awoke to warm air hitting his neck. There was a moment of confusion as to why his best friend was in bed with him with his head on Richie’s shoulder, and Richie’s cheek smooshed lying atop Eddie’s head. But the confusion lasted no longer than half a second, and Richie was smiling.

Their hands had come undone during sleep, but they were now noticeably closer. Richie was the one on his back now and Eddie was laying on his side. Eddie’s left leg was crossed over Richie’s. Richie had an arm around Eddie. Together they laid entangled. Richie thanked the stars for lining up for this moment to happen. 

God, he wanted to remember how good this moment felt forever and had an idea on how to do so. He had “borrowed” his dad’s polaroid camera from his office and it was now in his bedside table drawer. He would have to lean over Eddie to get it. There was a high chance of his friend waking up, he would have to be careful. Not something Richie was very good at.

He lifted his right side off the bed and reached with his right arm over Eddie. With his left shoulder now lifting, Eddie's head rolled off his shoulder and onto the pillow. It was a far reach. By the time Richie could reach the drawer, he was practically on top of Eddie, but he was still deeply asleep. He must have really been as exhausted as he said. 

Even with Eddie not stirring, something inside Richie stirred, balancing on top Eddie. Looking down at him. But before Richie could dwell on what he was feeling he quickly grabbed the camera and closed the drawer before he lost his balance and fell on top of Eddie. 

Eddie’s head was no longer resting on Richie's shoulder, which was a shame. Eddie’s head was on the pillow, face squished looking. It was adorable. They laid next to each other, left legs still crossed. Richie turned the camera around to face the lens towards them and smiled big. He took the picture and the camera made a snap sound and flashed. Richie looked over at Eddie, he was still breathing slow, eyes closed and bandaged lip pouting.

Richie laid the camera on his stomach and held the undeveloped picture in hand, waiting. Listening to Eddie’s sighs. Richie had never felt more at peace. But like all good things end, the peace was ruined when he heard the front door open and close, followed by two sets of footsteps. Richie internally groaned and wondered what type of evening for his parents it would be. Hoping it would be a good one.

He decided he should probably go downstairs and mention Eddie was over. That would have his parents playing the whole “everything is fine and great” act. 

The very idea of leaving this capsule of comfort made him feel as heavy as lead. He took a moment to close his eyes and savor the body warmth next to him. Green apples. Then he heard voices snapping at each other downstairs and he knew he needed to get up whether he wanted to or not. He glanced at the photo. Not yet fully developed, but you could see two shadows of people. 

As stealthy as possible, Richie snaked his leg out from under Eddie’s. He got out of bed and tucked the covers closer to his friend to keep him warm.

Before Richie left his room, he grabbed his glasses and placed the camera and undeveloped photo back into his drawer, excited to look at it later. 

He tiptoed downstairs and entered the dining room to see both his parents sitting with envelopes as red at his mother’s lipstick in a pile in front of them. His mother had a hand tangled in her hair, resting her elbow on the table, seeming to have a headache. His father cleaning his glasses on his shirt somberly.

Mr. Tozier looked up with squinted eyes as his son entered and his face turned into one of artificial joy, “Hey, buckaroo! What’d you do today?”

Richie eyed his mother who wasn't changing her demeanor into a positive one, not even looking up, like his father, “Went to the arcade with the guys. Eddie’s here.”

Richie’s dad looked up at the ceiling as if looking through the floorboards to see that yes, Eddie was here. He still cleaned his glasses on his shirt. His shirt wasn't the right material to clean a pair of glasses, though. It was a work button up, one to go under a suit. It didn’t seem that his father's goal was to clean his glasses but rather find something to do with his hands. “Ah, alright. We can order a pizza!”

Richie’s mother looked up from the table and glared at her husband. “We have food here. I'm sure I can fix us up something for tonight.” She then untangled her hand from her hair and sat up straight in her chair, smiling at Richie. “You better head on upstairs with your friend, sweetie. Your father and I need to sort some stuff out. I can call you boys when dinner is ready.”

Richie’s father shrugged at Richie like, “sorry buddy I’m on your side, but you know Mom.”

Richie was okay with not having pizza. He had it for lunch (though he would be fine eating it for any meal). What Richie’s father was doing was playing the good guy. The friend rather than the father. Which forced his mom to be the bad guy. It was a game all too familiar that stemmed a lot of his mother’s annoyance towards the father.

Richie returned a smile to his mom and left his parents without another word. Sure now that whatever they needed to hash out it would be done quietly with a guest in the house.

Richie re-entered his bedroom and shut his door quietly, finding Eddie still soundly asleep. Richie felt anxious. He wished his parents didn't have to be home. Richie decided to slow his mind down with a smoke.

He began the routine he formed to get away with smoking while his parents were home. He turned on a fan he had set at his desk to point out the window and moved his desk chair in front. He took his lighter and a pack of cigarettes out from his backpack and slipped one between his fingers, putting the rest away. He sat in his chair with his feet propped up on the window seal, lit the cigarette, and took a gluttonous inhale. As he did so he closed his eyes, letting his chest fill with smoke. Instant calm washed over him as the nicotine did its work. Then, he opened his eyes and blew out the smoke in the stream of air leading out the window. 

He gazed over his shoulder at Eddie. Bandaid on his lip. There was a red mark now seen behind the bandaid. The cut was still bleeding. Richie told himself to remember to tell Eddie to change it when he woke up. Though, he probably didn’t need a reminder. It would probably be the first thing on his mind. 

Richie took another hit. The cigarette was shaky between his pointer and middle finger, so he switched to holding it between his pointer and thumb. Beverly teased him for holding his cigarettes this way. He guessed it must not look as cool, but Richie’s hands were always too shaky to do it the other way. Often a cigarette has fallen onto his lap because it wiggled its way out of his fingers. Holes then burned into his jeans, as if he needed anymore.

Richie thought about his failed attempt to ask Eddie earlier if he was gay. How at the sight of his friend he clammed up. He wished he could go back and take a polaroid of Eddie at that moment. Sipping the ice water. Legs exposed. Hoodie almost blocking his eyes. That would be a picture he could stare at for hours. Richie wondered if he would try to ask Eddie again but then questioned if there was even any point to it. Richie knew what he now felt for Eddie, and Eddie being gay wouldn't validate that. Eddie liking him back would validate it. Hearing Eddie say he was gay wouldn't satisfy him. It would clear up some confusion, but Richie wanted to know about something more specific. 

He wished his friend could just sleep through the night and Richie could climb back into bed with him. Sure, Eddie would freak in the morning because he never went home and his mother didn't know where he was, but Richie was selfish. He wanted Eddie here with him. He had never held anyone while he slept before. He had held onto a pillow imagining it was a person, but the real thing was so different. It felt like the definition of feeling safe. He understood why people dug it so much. 

Richie inhaled again and heard a soft and annoyed, “Really?”

Richie coughed out the smoke at the unexpected voice and whipped his head around to see Eddie sleepily looking up at him.

Once Richie recovered from the burning in his throat, he responded, “Sorry, buddy. Promise not to blow it in your direction.”

Eddie yawned into his hand and set up in bed. Scooting himself to sit with his back against the wall and placed a pillow behind him for comfort. As he did this he mumbled, “Still, there is second-hand smoke all over this room now.”

Richie smiled and took another drag, remaining eye contact with Eddie. Challenging him to complain again. Eddie lost the staring contest looked away and at the fan humming on the desk.

Eddie was groggy and trying to recall something. Wasn't Richie in bed with him? Didn't they...hold hands? Did Eddie hold Richie’s hand? It was foggy, he wasn't sure if it was a dream or not. It had felt very real. The vivid memory of Eddie searching for Richie under the covers, and when he found him how Richie seemed to grab on, excited almost. He wanted to ask Richie if it truly happened, but decided against the possible embarrassment of bringing it up. Whether or not the hand holding happened, Richie was crowded in this twin bed with him. He was sure of that. And Eddie wished he was still.

A couple of minutes of both boys lost in thought passed when Eddie asked, "Why do you smoke?"

Richie was looking out his window at the tree regrowing its leaves from winter and blew out a fresh cloud, "I don’t know, Eds. Because it makes me feel good, I guess. Relaxes me."

"Are you not relaxed most of the time?" Richie was one of the most easy-going guys Eddie has ever known. 

Richie shrugged, "No, not really. My mind is always going a million miles an hour. It’s nice to have something that slows it down."

Eddie tried to imagine Richie feeling the same way he does most of the time. Your brain going a million miles an hour. Thinking things you didn't permit yourself to. Being scared of nothing. It was a weird thought. "Well, don’t you have anything else you can do to relax? Something that won't slowly kill you?"

Richie spread his hands out in front of him, except for his fingers holding the cigarette, and exclaimed to his friend, "Eds, I can't masturbate all day because it relaxes me. I would never get anything done!"

Eddie’s cheeks went red, wondering which part to respond to. "You never get anything done anyways."

Richie laughed, "Yeah, I guess not."

Eddie was silent as he let Richie finish his cigarette. He thought about the sketch in his school notebook of Richie smoking in class. Then, he thought about his newest sketch. He studied the look of Richie’s Adam's apple now and decided he needed to tweak the way he drew it before. He knew he would never be able to capture Richie how he truly was, but it was still a fun project that kept him busy.

Richie took his feet down from the window seal, they were getting cold, and replaced them with his elbows. He felt weak from the nicotine’s effect. He wanted to lay down again. He wondered if Eddie would let him, then remembered, “You should probably get a fresh bandaid.”

Eddie lifted two fingers to touch the bandaid. He placed pressure and his lip ached as he expected. “You’re probably right,” Eddie said and stood out of bed. His legs formed goosebumps being exposed to the cold air. 

“My parents are downstairs, by the way,” Richie stated as Eddie walked out to the bathroom.

Eddie didn’t encounter the parents. He didn't expect too. Their bedroom was on the first floor and they never came upstairs. He threw away his used bandaid, rewashed the cut, and applied a fresh bandaid with medicine. He peered at himself in the mirror and relayed some information in his head.

“Three hours ago I had a panic attack in an alleyway. Richie comforted me. Brought me back to his place. Cleaned my bloody face. Took a nap with me.”

A week ago, these facts would have seemed impossible. Maybe not the panic attack part, but letting Richie do those things for him? Not pushing him away, saying to himself things are better that way. Better to not touch and be around Richie at all than to covet after what he could never have. 

Eddie felt like a real idiot sometimes. Richie was his best friend, no matter how much Eddie tried to push him away. Literally or figuratively. And Richie liked to express his affection for people through touch. And Eddie liked to be touched by Richie. Maybe things aren't as complicated as he once thought. Maybe he could have it all. His best friend, and a silly crush that would go nowhere. 

Eddie reentered the bedroom and shivered, retreating back under the covers.

Richie snuffed out the cigarette in a tissue and wrapped that tissue in 3 more tissues, throwing it in his trash can. He was now onto phase two of smoking while his parents were home. He took a candle out from his closet and placed it on his desk, lighting it with his lighter. 

Eddie chuckled, “A candle?”

“To get rid of the smell, genius.” Richie dramatically sniffed it. “It’s pinewood.” 

Eddie snorted. 

“Shut up, dude. It smells nice.” Richie set the candle down and turned off the fan, then crossed his arms and leaned against his desk and faced Eddie. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah, I guess.” He almost wanted to mention the hand holding. To make sure it actually happened and not just something Eddie dreamed up. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did sleep pretty good. Really good. Are you hungry?”

Eddie was slightly annoyed Richie changed the subject before Eddie could ask about the hand holding. “A bit, I guess.”

“Mom said she would cook, but you know how she is. I'm craving peanut butter.” Richie then wondered out the room. 

Richie was right, Eddie noted. The candle did smell good.

Richie returned and produced a jar of peanut butter and two spoons.

“That isn't a very sanitary way to eat. Double-dipping? Do you know how much bacteria is transferred in a single double dip? It's basically like putting all this peanut butter in your mouth and spitting it back into the jar.”

“Eddie, buddy, honestly how are you ever going to kiss somebody? The whole time you would just think about” He rudely mimicked Eddie’s voice when shrill “Transferring bacteria!”

Eddie turned red. “Fuck you! No I wouldn't..."

Richie strolled over to the bed and slipped in next to Eddie. His back against the wall and his legs under the covers. Shoulder the shoulder with Eddie. Hip to hip with Eddie. It made both of them feel electric. Richie handed him a spoon and opened the jar. He filled his spoon a quarter full of peanut butter and licked it off. Eddie did the same. Trying to avoid getting it on his bandaid as much as possible.

“So…” Richie's mouth was sticky from the snack, he tried bringing up casually, “am I allowed to ask what happened at the arcade?”

Eddie dreaded having to explain it. He hoped Richie wouldn't pry. 

“I mean, I know what happened, but why? It never gets that bad.”

Eddie shrugged and took another spoonful, “I just got paranoid.”

Richie knew this was one of those moments to shut up, but he physically wasn't able to, “What about?”

Eddie picked at the bandaid, remembering Ben darting his eyes away when Eddie caught him staring at Richie’s jawline. Ben didn't mean anything by it, Eddie reminded himself. And he would never tell anyone. Probably. But at that moment, that didn't feel like the case.

“I felt like people were looking at me. Talking about me.”

“Well, when you're as cute as we are that's just behavior you have to expect. People can't help but marvel at us.”

Eddie scoffed and placed aside the spoon on the bedside table. He grabbed the glass of water from earlier and took a sip. Cleaning his mouth from the sticky peanut butter. He put the water back and his fingers fiddled with the seams connecting squares of designs on Richie’s quilt that laid over them.

Richie closed the jar and handed it and his spoon to Eddie, asking him to place it on the table too.

“And can I have some water?”

Eddie made a face about sharing but handed him the water. Richie took a sip and handed it back to Eddie who was about to place it back on the table when Richie demanded, “Now take another sip.”

“What? Why?” Eddie asked, confused.

“Just do it.”

Eddie did, hesitantly.

“There! Now we’ve shared bacteria. Not so bad, right? Maybe you will be able to kiss someone someday.” Richie loved to tease Eddie. To get him worked up. And, the “test” was for his amusement, but also slightly for his curiosity. Would Eddie? With him?

Eddie harshly rolled his eyes and grumpily set the glass of water back on this table. He did so with a little too much force, some water sloshed out and onto the table. It began to drip down the front and into the crack to the drawer. “Oh crap, sorry.” 

Eddie was about to open the drawer where the water was dripping into when Richie said with panic, “No!”

Eddie looked at him surprised.

“I just mean. It's fine. It's just water it will dry.” Richie didn't mean to shout and keep Eddie from looking inside. It wasn't his intention to hide the picture he took of him and Eddie in bed, of Eddie sleeping. But Richie talked before he could think it through, like always. 

“Um. Okay. If you say so.” Eddie let it go because if Richie was hiding something in his drawer that he didn't want Eddie to see, it was probably magazines of girls or something else he didn't care to see either.

“When you said you felt like people were looking at you,” Richie went back a couple of topics ago to draw attention away from his outburst, “I feel that way too sometimes. Like everyone is finding my presence annoying. Which they usually are, so I'm not sure if it's exactly the same as what you experienced.”

Eddie found Richie trying to relate to be very sweet. “I don't think you’re annoying, Rich.”

Richie beamed, not entirely believing him, but appreciating him nonetheless.

“It’s just, sometimes I look at people and it feels like they know all my secrets and are judging me. Even when it’s people I've never met.”

Was this the heart to heart Beverly was talking about? Was Eddie opening up to him? Fuck. Richie started to sweat but knew this was his only opportunity. He kept his voice light-hearted and asked, “What do you have to hide Spaghetti? You rob a bank or something and I don't know about it?”

Eddie smiled at his friend, beginning to feel self-pity creep its way up to his throat. “No, something this town would consider a lot worse than robbing a bank.”

Richie stayed quiet. Thinking of what to say next, but Eddie talked first.

“I'm just different than most people in this town.” Eddie thought about Ben. He accepted him. Why wouldn't Richie? Because you don't have a crush on Ben, Eddie reminded himself. His positive train of thought was suddenly killed.

“You ever heard of these people in something called the losers club? You should join, they know all about that crap.” Richie didn't know how to convey that whatever Eddie was trying to tell him was okay without giving away that he already knew.

Eddie’s mind wouldn't let him ignore the skin on skin contact of their thighs touching under the covers. It was comforting, but also troubled him. He was comforted by their shoulders touching, but also troubled. If Eddie told him, would he freak out that he was sharing a bed with a queer? Touching a queer? “But… I'm even different than you guys.” 

Richie’s heart raced. This was it. “How's that?”

Eddie lost his courage. He sighed and shook his head, looking at the water trickling into the drawer. He tried to think of a subject to change the topic.

Richie had to do something. He was never going to get this close again. He took one of Eddie’s hands that fiddled with the quilt and held it in his own as encouragement. “Maybe you aren't so different from us, from me, as you think.”

Eddie’s heart leaped from his chest and into his throat. He stared at Richie with wide eyes. No way. He doesn't know what he's talking about, what Eddie’s talking about. There’s no way. He was about to ask for some much-needed clarification when throughout the house a loud crash, like glass breaking, was heard.

Both boys jumped and let go of each other's hands, eyes bolted to the door.

Fuck, Richie thought. Fuck fuck fuck please not now. He looked at Eddie guiltily as his father’s voice was heard yelling something in the distance. “I'm so sorry,” He said embarrassed. “I told them you were over.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie knew what Richie’s parents were like. They both loved Richie, but there has been a strain between the two for a couple of years now.

A door slammed somewhere in the house. Richie was mortified. And angry. The two were so close to something. He was sure Eddie must be so uncomfortable, it was probably best to get him out of the house. He shouldn't be here for this.

Richie wasn't sure how to say it. “Maybe you should...go.” That didn't sound too polite, but it was already out.

Eddie was still questioning about what Richie meant with what he said before. That Eddie wasn't as different from him as he thought. What did he mean? He couldn't possibly leave now. He didn't give a fuck about Richie’s parents. But he couldn't refuse to leave either.

“Are you sure?” Eddie asked, hoping Richie would not be so sure.

The sound of banging echoed throughout the house, most likely banging on the earlier slammed door.

Richie looked away, gutted he had to do this. “Yeah. You should go.”

“You can come over to my place. You can come in through my window.” 

Richie wanted to, but his mood was ruined. How could his parents do this? With a visitor in the house? When did things get so bad? “No, I should stay here.”

Eddie’s voice was small, “Okay. If you’re sure. But come over if you want. I'll leave the window unlocked.”

Richie walked Eddie downstairs, keeping an eye out for his parents, but they weren't to be seen. Eddie was heading out the door, but he stopped. He turned back and hugged Richie. It was a tight and desperate hug. A hug that didn't want to say goodbye. The two separated and Richie watched from his doorstep as Eddie rode off on his bike. Still wearing Richie’s SeaWorld sweatshirt.

Richie closed the front door and his mother walked into the living room distressed. He glared at her, angry at his parents ruining this perfect evening. For embarrassing him. His mother caught his glare and threw her arms in the air with frustration, “Oh so you're mad at me too now? You and your father are always teaming up against me!”

Richie said nothing. He went back to his room and stuffed his quilt in his backpack, it barely fit. And opened this bedside table drawer that water leaked into to see the damage done to the picture. And shit, he thought, to the camera as well. The camera seemed to be alright, thank god. He placed it on his bed. The picture was soaking wet but dried out overnight and it should be fine. He held it carefully in his hands, not wanting it to rip. He thought he looked dumb in the picture of course. He never liked pictures of himself. But Eddie looked like an angel. 

Tears of anger burned in his eyes for his parents and he grabbed his history book from his closet. He stored all his school books in there until school started again so he could use his backpack. He placed the picture in the middle of the book so it would not get damaged when he stuffed it in his backpack. It would get the school book wet, but he didn't care about that. 

Before he stormed out his bedroom and out of the house, he grabbed his pocket knife off his desk. It was a last-minute thought. A last-minute idea. Richie left the house and rode off on his bike. His parents were too occupied with themselves to notice his absence. 

He could have gone over to Eddie’s as he offered, but Richie knew he was going to cry at any moment and didn't want to do that in front of Eddie. He didn't want to bring any more attention to himself. He hated to talk about these things. For people to feel bad for him. Eddie was the one going through something, Richie told himself. He needed the support.

Richie planned to sleep at the clubhouse. It was something he had done a couple of nights before. He knew better this time to bring a blanket, it could get pretty fucking cold sometimes. But first, he had a stop to make.

Eddie arrived at his house full of distress. Wishing he had told Richie that no, he wouldn't leave. He wanted to stay with him. But Eddie knew he couldn't force it. He stood on his front porch for a moment, preparing himself for his mother’s harassment of questions about the cut on his lip and whos sweatshirt he was wearing and where he's been. He opened the door as slow and quiet as he could. In the living room, was his mother asleep in the recliner. Relief washed over Eddie. Glad he had a whole night to avoid his mother’s overbearing nature.

He went into his room and closed the door. He knew Richie would be okay, having gone through many nights of his parents fighting and him blocking it out, but that didn't mean Eddie didn't feel sick to his stomach. Wishing Richie was here, away from it. 

Eddie was frustrated Richie didn't accept his offer to come over. And this mother was asleep! It was perfect for Richie to sneak over. Eddie wanted to call but knew calling the Tozier residence would be a mistake during his parents’ fight. That if Richie was going to come over then he would do so all his own. It's not like he has ever shied from doing it before. He did it just a couple of days ago. 

Eddie changed into some pajama pants and laid in bed over his covers. He wanted to stay awake in case Richie came over. Eddie felt queasy knowing he came so close to telling Richie the truth. And then what Richie said? What did that mean? Could Richie be...gay? No way. Back a few weeks ago when Richie showed Eddie the playboy magazine in the school bathroom, there was no way. All he talked about were girls. 

Eddie laughed at himself for thinking Richie might be gay, but then immediately felt dreadfully sad. Richie wasn't gay. Eddie knew he wasn't gay. He was never going to be gay. Eddie had to accept this. He had to accept being Richie’s friend and to be a good friend. With his parents in the state they were in recently, he needed a friend. Eddie just had to be content with that, and accept the guilty pleasure and butterflies he receives from being touched by Richie. Something Richie could never find out about. But still, what did Richie mean earlier? Maybe he was talking about the way Eddie panics sometimes. A few moments earlier Richie confessed that he felt like people stared at him too, not accepting him. That's probably what he meant.

Eddie contemplated these things as he laid in bed. He grabbed the hood hanging behind his head and pulled it around his neck, he smelled it. It still smelt like Richie. Eddie closed his eyes and smelled again. If he thought about it hard enough, he could almost imagine he was still laying next to him, feeling his warm skin on his own. The heat. The nerves on the skin that touched Richie felt on fire. His smell was so intoxicating. His eyes, behind those thick lashes, they were easier to see with his glasses off, like they were when he was in bed. Richie, smoking in the chair, feet propped on the window. His eyes squinting when he inhaled, his chest falling when he exhaled. Eddie’s mind jumped from detail to detail of Richie. All of them perfect. All of them overwhelming. The smell of Richie’s hoodie heightened them all. 

Eddie kept his eyes closed, his nose buried in the fabric, and his hand felt its way into his pants. He touched himself, imagining Richie. There was an underlayer of shame in what he did, but it wasn't as if he hasn't done it before. But this time wearing his hoodie? It made it feel dirtier. It made it feel hotter. Eddie’s hand moved faster and faster as images flashed in his mind. Richie’s dark curls peeking from his waistband, his strong and long fingers, his voice when it was soft and concerned, his lips wet after he would lick them, Richie licking the corndog in the Derry fair picture, Richie licking Eddie.

Eddie was on the verge of immense pleasure.

Richie was at the kissing bridge. Pocket knife in hand. It had been a gift from Mike one Christmas. The gang all told Mike he would regret giving something sharp and dangerous to Richie, but it was one of the best gifts he had ever received.

The handle was black and had grooves to comfortably fit your fingers, and Mike carved Richie initials into it, knowing he would probably lose it at some point. Which had only happened twice so far and both times they were found somewhere in the clubhouse where he forgot he placed them.

Richie was on his knees at the bridge. It was cold. It was dark. He could barely see, but he could picture it in the daylight along all the other names like it was a vision. He wasn't able to get out in the open what he wanted at his own house, but he would be damned if he didn't confess in any way at all tonight. 

Richie finished, or he thought he was finished. He still couldn't see it quite well enough, but it was good enough for tonight. He was freezing and his knees hurt from kneeling on the hard ground. He stood up and squinted through the dark to see his work: R + E

Richie's teeth chattered and he got back onto his bike and headed the clubhouse. To wrap himself in his blanket, stare at the picture of Eddie as he left it out to dry, and fall asleep.


	12. Cigarettes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys...I planned for this to be posted at 4 pm I swear but my brain was like,,,, its trash. Rewrite 70% of it... And that's what this fool did! And now I'm posting it at 1 am like usual.  
But at least I'm proud of it now.  
Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

When Richie arrived at the clubhouse, he didn't exactly fall asleep right away. He laid out the picture of him and Eddie on the floor so it could dry, and he got into the hammock with his blanket. He laid the cloth over himself, but the blanket itself was cold. He shivered as he waited for his body to create warmth, but with the holes in the hammock, it wasn’t easy. 

Richie retreated from the net and sat against the wall, wrapping the blanket over his shoulders. He took and lit up a cigarette from his bag in an attempt to warm himself. It helped a bit, and he sat with the picture placed in front of him.

Eddie. 

It was all that was on his mind. 

Edward Kaspbrak. Eddie Spaghetti. Eds. 

He wondered if his mom had torn him a new one when he got home. Richie studied the picture. Eddie’s hair was feathered over his forehead. His freckles danced across his nose. His eyelashes delicately at rest. The way his lips pouted in his sleep. Richie liked the look of Eddie’s pouted lips. He liked it a lot. He remembered reaching for the camera and being on top of Eddie. He liked that a lot too. 

Richie, bitterly, thought about his parents. He wished things could be as they were when he was a child with two loving parents who adored him. A time before he had even considered romantic relationships. The only thing he cared about was scouring for quarters and wasting away his summer days at the arcade or outside with his friends.

Richie finished his cigarette and snuffed it out on the dirt floor, throwing aside the butt. He lit another. He wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon. 

Richie rarely smoked cigarettes back to back. He did once before with Beverly but ended up getting sick into a park trashcan. Right now, he felt dizzy. The smoke lingered in the air, having no escape. It made it feel like he had already had more than one.

Fucking Bill. He started all this, Richie persuaded himself. Things would be like they were before if Bill didn’t make Richie consider emotions hidden away inside of himself. Emotions that troubled him, that lied dormant within him. They may have stayed that way if it wasn't for Bill. If they had remained dormant his life would have been kept simple. His life could have stayed one of chasing after girls and affectionately caring for his friend Eddie like all the other losers, but maybe just a tad bit more for Eddie.

Well, this situation probably isn't to be blamed entirely on Bill. He told Richie that Eddie may like him as more than a friend, but Bill didn't force Richie to reciprocate those feelings.

Whether or not this epiphany of endearment to his childhood friend turned out to be a good thing, all depended on Eddie. On if Eddie felt the same way. 

He finished his second cigarette, and he knew he shouldn’t, but he lit another. He felt queasy. Too much nicotine. But tonight, Richie wasn't very concerned for his well being. He wanted to test his limits and see if he could go farther than the 4 he had with Beverly. He also felt particularly in need of the addictive ease they offered on this night. The fog of smoke began to cloud his vision.

Richie, within his haze, recalled a memory he had almost forgotten. A couple of months ago, the losers club went to the Derry fair. Mike, Bev, and Eddie played one of those dumb carnival games. The ones that are rigged to get competitive people to waste their money. But luck must have been on their side, all three of them won. He can’t remember what Mike and Bev choose for their prize, but with a childlike smile on Eddie’s face as he looked up at all the options, he chose a mug.

Affection washed over Richie. Eddie was so happy. Most of them didn’t think he would win, Richie included, but he did. And that mug. Richie told Eddie not to use it for coffee, it might stunt his growth more than it already was, and Eddie told him to shove it. Richie asked Eddie where he would like him to shove it and Eddie clammed up. He made a motion like he was going to hit Richie with the mug, and Richie flinched. Eddie didn't hit him, of course, and the two cracked up laughing. Eds then got pulled away by Beverly, wanting to point out to him the goldfish that could be won at another game. Eddie complained his mom would never allow him to have a pet.

Richie finished his third cigarette. He put out the embers and disregarded it like the rest. He found there was only one left in his case. He took it out and considered it, smoking this would only make him even with his last record, he realized disappointed. Though, if the smoke hung in the air, he had technically smoked more than his record. When he smoked with Beverly the excess drifted up into the night sky.

With these thoughts swimming in his head, his queasy feeling turned into one of full nausea. He dropped the cigarette and held his stomach. There wasn't any escape from the cigarette smoke in the air, so he stood up to open the trap door. Upon standing, his legs felt as weak as jello and he fell right back down. 

Richie stood up again, but slower than before, and took baby steps to the door. Opening it brought in a fresh chill he wasn't too happy about, but if he spent any longer breathing in the smoke he was sure to vomit up his lunch and peanut butter. 

Richie laid back into the hammock with his blanket wrapped around him like a cacoon. A breeze entered the clubhouse and he felt the cold all the way to his bones. He screwed his eyes shut and thought of Eddie. Thought of an alternate universe where he kissed Eddie right before his parents fighting interrupted them. It filled him with enough warmth to allow him to doze off.

Richie woke up to Beverly standing over him, looking at something held in her hand. Richie was momentarily confused about his surroundings and Beverly’s presence, but then he noticed the photo she held. Suddenly wide awake, Richie scrambled out of the hammock and in doing so it flipped and dumped him onto the hard ground.

“Ow,” Richie moaned.

Beverly helped him back up and handed him back the picture. Richie took it, embarrassed, and closed it into his history book, which he stuffed it into his bookbag.

“You slept here last night,” Beverly asked, observing the blanket and three loose cigarette butts on the floor along with the one full and tossed aside.

Richie moved passed Bev and started to pick them up, knowing the others would throw a fit if garbage was on the floor. There was a not so silent pact to keep the place tidy. Stan even tapped up a piece of paper saying, “Leave no trace.” That was the saying used in boy scouts which he participated in some years ago.

Beverly watched Richie do this. The door was opened when she got here and judging by how cold it was to bike here this morning, it must have been freezing in the clubhouse last night. Richie’s nose and cheeks were bright red from the chill.

“What are you doing here so early?” Richie questioned, trying to divert attention from himself. He threw the butts away in the shopping bag meant for trash and put the one good cigarette back in its case.

Beverly didn’t receive an answer to her question and didn’t exactly want to give an answer herself.

“I asked you first.”

“Change of scenery,” Richie replied sarcastically.

Beverly scoffed. She playfully punched his shoulder, it was the shoulder he fell on though and Richie winced. 

He couldn’t shake his embarrassment of having that picture of him and Eddie sitting out. Richie, self-conscious and speaking fast, tried to explain, “That picture I took as a joke and Eddie spilled water on it so I had it out to dry and he was in my bed because he was tired and-”

Before Richie could further bury himself Beverly interrupted, “What happened to his lip?” She assumed the picture was taken yesterday. She had never seen that injury before and Richie was wearing the same clothes from that day, but Eddie wasn't. He was in Richie’s SeaWorld hoodie. Beverly began to get a funny feeling from the implication and Richie’s embarrassment.

“Oh,” Richie never exactly cleared that up with Eddie. “I think he...bit it? Or something.”

“Did you bite it?” Beverly teased.

Richie frantically denied, “No I did not fucking bite Eddie’s lip off!”

Bev laughed. Yesterday she was worried like the rest of the gang when the two disappeared from the arcade. This was a piece to the puzzle, Eddie got hurt and they went to Richie’s? Beverly knew she wasn't likely to gain any further information if she pried at this moment. She would have to bring it up at another time. What she did want to pry about was how Richie’s night ended him up here, the place reeking of smoke.

Richie sneezed.

“Aren't you recovering from a cold or something? Why the hell are you sleeping out here?”

When Richie didn't respond, Beverly picked the blanket up off the floor and wrapped it over Richie’s shoulders. He appreciated Beverly. She knew how to comfort him without Richie even having to say anything.

Since the two weren't planning on going anywhere anytime soon, they agreed to play the card game Crazy Eights. After a couple of rounds, Beverly confessed why she was here at 6 in the morning.

“I didn't want to see my aunt this morning. So I dipped out before she woke up.”

Richie looked up from his hand of cards confused, “Why? I thought you guys were getting along.”

Beverly shrugged, “We are. It’s just a bit awkward. In the morning she sits with me while we both drink coffee. She asks me a lot of questions. Wanting to get to know me, I guess. Which is nice, but she asks a lot of questions about my dad.”

Richie knew Beverly had an unhealthy upbringing with her dad. By the way she spoke of him, which she rarely did, Richie suspected things that made him furious. The piece of shit left town when Beverly was taken from the apartment and her aunt agreed to move here to Derry. Where he went? No one gave a fuck. Sayonara, bastard.

Beverly answered truthfully, and Richie supposed it was only fair to answer truthfully himself. Though, he wouldn’t get into details. “My parents were fighting last night.”

Beverly nodded in understanding. She was grateful he shared a bit of home life information with her. She didn’t know much about his parents. When the club would get together at his place, it was always on a night when the two worked late. 

Beverly reached into her back pocket and pulled out a cigarette. She placed it between her lips and was about to light it when Richie asked guiltily, “Uh...I’m sorry, can you not right now? I had too many last night. Make me feel sick. I still feel a bit sick.”

“Oh, yeah of course,” and put the cigarette away. The smell now made sense.

The two played the card game in silence. Which was unusual, the two were never silent when together. They were constantly cracking up and making each other laugh until tears formed in their eyes. But the two both felt particularly somber this morning.

“Are you hungry,” Beverly asked. “I brought some granola bars.”

Richie accepted immediately, he didn't have a proper dinner last night. The granola bar tasted exceptionally delicious to him. His mouth tasted like shit from morning breath, and this granola bar tasted like honey.

He closed his eyes and exclaimed, “Honestly, this is better than pussy to me right now.”

Beverly scoffed, “As if you would know.”

Richie grinned, cheeks full like a chipmunk. 

Beverly reflected on the picture she wasn't meant to see. The two were quite close. Bodies pressed together and faces inches apart. Beverly was happy for them, finally seeming to be close friends again. But the picture, it made her wonder if there was more to it than that.

“I've noticed you and Eddie getting along again. It makes me happy.”

Richie was irritated, why were all the losers suspicious of the two getting along? First Bill and Stanley, now Beverly too. If the crush was true on Eddie’s end, Richie began to gain a bit of understanding for Eddie avoiding him. It may have been easier to stay away than to risk the suspicion Richie had been receiving lately.

“Yeah.” Was all Richie replied with, trying to sound casual. Not wanting to give anything away.

“Like, really getting along, apparently.”

Richie squinted eyes at her, “Are you trying to say something?”

Beverly went for it, never one to hold back. “I'm just saying if there's something between you two, that's pretty cool.”

Rickie scoffed to make it seem as if the idea was outlandish, “What the hell makes you say that?”

“Well, the two of you cuddling in bed, first of all.”

“I told you that was a joke, Bev! I’ll blackmail Eddie with it or something later.”

Beverly sang condescendingly, “If you say so.”

Richie shuffled the deck of cards annoyed. Though he softened when remembering Beverly in here with him the other day, giving him advice on how to comfort Eddie who earlier left the clubhouse crying. Richie realistically knew she wasn’t trying to tease Richie or frustrate him. She was Beverly Marsh, one of the kindest and accepting people he knew. Someone who always helped Richie organize the mess of thoughts in his brain.

“Things are…” He tried to find a word for it, “...different now. I see Eddie differently. But there isn't any point to it if he didn't feel the same.”

“Well, you’ll never know how Eddie feels unless you ask.”

Richie passed out a new hand of cards.

“I almost did yesterday,“ Richie sorely followed up with, “We got interrupted.”

Beverly tried to hide her excitement. The possibility of two of her closest friends together? Dating? It made her imagine possible double dates and gushing over their partners together. But she also understood the pressure from this small town to be “normal.” Anything new to this community the people saw as a threat. It crushed her to think that could keep her two friends from following their hearts.

“Is there any way I help?” She offered.

Richie laughed, “What like you pass him a note saying ‘Richie likes you, do you like him back? Circle yes or no.’”

Beverly giggled, “Okay, maybe not something like that.”

“I think I have to handle this on my own. I'm just scared. What if he doesn't feel the same way? Where does that leave me? What if it breaks up the group dynamic? There's so much that can go wrong. I don't want to make you guys feel uncomfortable.”

“As if you've ever been afraid to make us uncomfortable,” She teased.

Richie smiled half-heartedly. Beverly was trying to keep things light, but it didn’t make him feel any better

Beverly thought back on details she had once overlooked. Eddie blushed when Richie teased him, while the rest of the club would be teased by Richie and give it right back to him. Eddie never talked about girls. Eddie doodled in his English notebook sketches of Richie, she saw them when she borrowed his notes a couple of weeks ago when she was out sick. She merely wrote it off that Richie sat in front of him and was an easy target. The more she thought of it, the more obvious it became. She was frustrated with herself for not seeing it sooner.

With confidence, Beverly assured Richie, “I have a good feeling about this.”

“I might go see him today.”

“I think you should. Like I said a couple of days, right? Gotta just talk things out. Heart to heart.”

Richie chuckled, “Sounds gay.”

Beverly threw her hand of cards at Richie and pretending to be offended he did the same. The two were back to fooling around like normal. The somber feeling of this chilly morning had vanished.

Eddie woke up, feeling sticky on his pelvis. He cleaned himself off last night with tissues, but that never did well enough of a job. He wondered if Richie came over last night. It wasn't likely. The window opening would have woken him up, and Richie wouldn't have left so early in the morning. He usually slept in pretty late.

Eddie went into his bathroom and checked on his cut. It had scabbed over overnight. He didn't need the bandaid anymore. He removed it and brushed his teeth. Then he took a hot shower. It was a long shower. He spent most of it staring at nothing in particular, thinking about yesterday.

“Maybe you're not so different from us, from me, as you think.”

Eddie replayed what Richie said over and over in his head. What the hell did it mean? Richie held his hand when he said it. Possibly just his way of offering support and encouragement for Eddie to keep opening up as he was doing before. About how he felt like an outcast from his own friend group. It probably would have worked if the conversation didn't end so abruptly. Eddie might have confessed. Not about Richie, but about the whole of it. Eddie didn't like girls like his male friends did.

Eddie exited the shower when his skin was red and raw from the scalding water. He changed into a fresh pair of underwear and sweatpants, but again put on the SeaWorld hoodie.

Eddie dreaded this, but he couldn't avoid his mother forever. He went into the living room and stood in place until his mother looked up and immediately noticed the mark on his lip.

She got out of her chair and rushed up to her son. “Edward Kaspbrak! What did you do to yourself?! Who's hoodie is that?” She held her son’s face in both her hands and examined the wound.

“It’s nothing, really.”

“It's probably infected!” She panicked.

“It's not Momma, I cleaned it and put medicine on it.”

“I'm going to get the Neosporin ointment,” She said ignoring her son’s defense and shuffled into the kitchen to fetch the medicine. Eddie signed in annoyance.

After half an hour of his mother proclaiming he wasn't allowed to leave the house until the wound was healed to avoid further infection, Eddie retreated into his room. There was no way in hell he would be trapped in his house for the rest of spring break. He would sneak out if he had to.

Eddie opened up this notebook and flipped to his newest project featuring a certain lanky teenage boy lying in the hammock. His arms seemed too long. Eddie erased them and tried again.

“Maybe you aren't so different from us, from me, as you think.”

Eddie sniffed the hoodie again. It made him wish to be back in bed with Richie. Shoulder to shoulder. Hip to hip.

He sat with the pencil hovering over the paper. He was too deep in thought to continue. He recalled Richie wiping off Eddie’s blood. Doing it himself rather than handing off the rag. He was so gentle, not wanting to be rough and hurt Eddie. And Richie placed his hand on Eddie’s neck. He wished it hadn't tickled. He might have enjoyed the contact.

Eddie also recalled Richie holding his shoulders into the alley wall. Cooing for Eddie to smell the flowers, blow out the candles. A silly phrase, but it was effective. It made Eddie focus on finding his breath. Slowing his heart rate.

Eddie wanted to see Richie. To see if he was okay from his parent’s fight last night. To comfort him, if that's what he needed. And if that was the case, to hold his hand as Richie had done for him. 

Eddie couldn't sit around even for an hour knowing he wasn't allowed to leave. It made him want to leave the house even more. He snuck out his window, still wearing Richie’s hoodie and sweatpants. He didn't think to change. He left in a hurry.

Eddie rode his bike around aimlessly and decided to check on Richie. Maybe to get clarification from his friend.

Eddie arrived at Richie’s house and knocked on the door. His father answered, dark bags under his eyes.

“Edward! Nice surprise. But Richie, apparently, isn't here.”

This concerned Eddie. Why would Richie leave? Why didn't he come to Eddie’s place as he had offered? “Oh. Alright. Well, thanks anyway. Have a good day.” 

Richie’s dad kindly wished Eddie a good day as well before closing the door. Eddie wondered if Mr. Tozier got any sleep last night. He didn’t look too good. 

Where would Richie be? Who’s house would he go to other than Eddie’s? Bill’s house came to mind. Eddie, wasting no time, biked over there.

Eddie knocked on his friend’s door and Bill answered, still in his pajamas.

Bill was surprised to see Eddie unannounced at his house at 8 am and looked down at his too-big sweatshirt. He recognized it as Richie’s. “Hey, Ed-Eddie, w-what’s up?”

Eddie got right to it, “Is Richie here?”

“No. I haven't s-seen him sin-since the arcade. Which you two ditched with-without saying anything. Apology accepted.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said guiltily. “Sorry about that.”

“What ha-happened to your lip?”

“An accident. Richie isn't at his place, do you have any ideas where he might be?”

“Maybe Stan’s. Maybe the clu-clubhouse. Why are you looking for-for him?”

“I’m just…” Eddie continued with hesitation, “...worried.”

Bill nodded knowingly. Thinking of his theory. Thinking of them disappearing and Eddie wearing Richie’s hoodie. Wondering if his theory was being put into effect. “Sorry I’m-im not much hel-help. I hope you find him.”

“Thanks, see you later.”

Eddie turned around to leave when Bill remembered, “Stan is trying to p-p-put together another movie night. Expect a call abou-about that.”

“I’m kinda on house arrest right now, but I’ll try.”

Bill found it amusing that Eddie was out of his house right now while telling Bill he's on house arrest. Eddie could be a real rebel when he wanted to.

Eddie decided to check the clubhouse. When he arrived, he found Beverly smoking a cigarette and reading a book, no Richie. The smell in the air was potent. It annoyed him when Richie and Beverly would smoke in the clubhouse. The losers would have to keep the trap door open for hours to air out the thick and heavy smell.

When Eddie entered, Beverly greeted him with unnatural excitement. “Hey! Good Morning.”

“Morning.” Eddie decided on small talk, not wanting to seem as desperate to find Richie as he was with Bill. Beverly looked into such emotion more than Bill did. At least, that's what Eddie thought. “What are you reading?”

“The Catcher In the Rye. Holden’s a bit of an ass.”

“Haven't read it. Any plans today?”

“Ben asked me yesterday to come over and check out his new Nintendo.”

“Sounds like a hot date.” Eddie joked, but was impatient.

Beverly took a hit from her cigarette annoyed, “Not a date. And Richies’ looking for you.”

This perked Eddie up.

“He left a few minutes ago to go to your place. Yknow he slept here last night? Dumbass.”

Eddie was frustrated Beverly didn't mention this first and frustrated he spent the last 40 minutes looking for Richie when he should have just waited at home. He hoped he would still be there when Eddie got back. He hoped he hadn't been waiting very long. And Richie sleeping in the clubhouse? Eddie agreed that it was a dumbass move. The clubhouse was dank, dirty, and did not contain heat well.

“Then I’ll get over there. Thanks, Bev.”

Beverly was filled with anticipation to hear all about this exchange the two boys were to have later on.

Eddie left quickly, not wanting to keep Richie waiting any longer. If he was still there. God, he hoped Richie was still there. 

Eddie took a shortcut home he usually didn't take. It crossed a few streets and the old people of Derry were shit drivers. More than once they would not slow their car down soon enough and nearly hit pedestrians.

The short cut crossed the kissing bridge. A place had Eddie lingered to feet sorry for himself a few days ago after having proclaimed himself a bad friend to Richie. The memory made him cringe. He wished he hadn't broken down like that. But he had missed Richie. Emotion overcame him from his touch long avoided.

Eddie drove through, he remembered that night wishing he could have his name on the bridge with another's one day. That night he had been filled with so much hopelessness and loneliness. All he wanted was to feel normal, as any crush a guy would have on a girl felt normal. He wanted silly things like dates and flowers and name carvings on the kissing bridge.

As Eddie was halfway across, he noticed a new carving. He nearly crashed his bike stopping so fast. He sat in the middle of the bridge on his bike, staring at it. He then abandoned his bike and got a closer look. The wood in the carving was bright, not yet eroded by the weather. It was a new carving. 

It’s not what you think, Eddie told himself. It’s not what you wish it was, he reasoned. Still though, his cheeks felt hot. It had been something he doodled into sketchbooks and quickly scribbled over until indistinguishable. He pretended for a moment, the E stood for Eddie. He pretended for a moment, the R stood for Richie.

He shouldn’t be keeping Richie waiting any longer. He left the kissing bridge, staring back at the carving for as long as he could before at risk of crashing his bike. 

Eddie returned home to find Richie sitting under his window. His face broke into a smile when he saw Eddie ride up, still wearing his oversized hoodie.

“Will I ever get that hoodie back?!” He called out, teasing. 

Eddie shushed him. “I’m on house arrest. Don’t let mom hear you.”

Fuckin Sonia, Richie thought.

Eddie sat aside his bike and opened his window for the both of them. They gave each other a hand to help the other climb in. Eddie didn't want Richie falling again and making a loud thump.

Once the two were inside, Richie's eyes fell upon Eddie’s desk. Eddie followed his gaze and panicked seeing he left his notebook opened. He rushed to shut it, but like the comic Eddie tried to take away from Richie the other day, Richie was faster and got there first. He held Eddie an arm's length away and grinned so wide at the picture it hurt his cheeks.

“Wow. This looks great, Eds. I make a good model.” Richie was amazed and flattered Eddie would do this.

Eddie snatched the notebook back and threw it into his desk drawer, mortified. “I just got bored and started drawing. I'm going to draw everyone eventually,” Eddie lied, trying to make the picture seem like less of a tribute.

“It looks really good. I look a lot better in that picture than in real life. Think the school will let me use that as my yearbook picture instead of the shit one they took?”

Eddie was highly embarrassed, but deep down pleased Richie liked the picture. And he didn't think Richie was more handsome in the picture than in real life. He thought just the opposite.

Eddie changed the subject, “I went to the clubhouse. Beverly told me you slept there?”

Richie scratched his head looking down at the carpet, “Uh yeah, I did.” 

“Why didn't you come over?” Eddie asked, slightly offended.

“Didn't want to bother you,” he said shyly. It was a half-truth. He didn't want to burden Eddie with his own troubles. He didn't want to make things about himself.

“You could never bother me.”

Richie scoffed, “Buddy, we both know that's not true.” He quickly added, “But thanks.”

Richie was right, it wasn't true, but even when Richie was annoying Eddie, he still doted on his trashmouth friend. 

Richie pushed up his glasses with his index finger. “Anyways, I wanted to say sorry for last night. I didn't want you to have to be there for that. I didn't even want to have to be there for it.”

“Really, it’s okay.” Eddie added softly, “I would have stayed.”

Richie smiled shyly in appreciation and compared the souvenirs each possessed. Richie had a picture of the two in bed, Eddie had a drawing of Richie. Maybe the score was even now. He wondered if Eddie would be embarrassed by the photo and make Richie throw it out, which he would never do in a million years.

Beverly’s voice entered Richie’s mind, her encouragement. His friend’s acknowledgment of the crush made it feel all the more real. For it to be talked about out in the open, not only something for Richie to hide inside of himself and fear, he felt validated. It was a real, valid crush. Not something to be afraid of. Not something he was tricking himself into. It was real. This was real.

“Is your cut doing alright?” Richie took a step closer to Eddie. To see the cut better. To have a reason to be closer to Eddie.

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie’s heart skipped a beat when Richie approached. “Mom flipped out, of course. It's why I’m on house arrest. I think she believes the oxygen outside is gonna infect it and my lip will fall off.”

“That would be a real shame if it did.” Richie was attempting to flirt. Was he doing it right? He had no clue. He flirted with people as a joke, but never to get something out of it.

Eddie didn't know how to interpret that statement. “Heh...yeah I guess it would be. I wouldn't be able to pronounce p, b, or m properly or use vanilla chapstick anymore. What a tragic life.”

Richie laughed and remembered the vanilla chapstick Eddie got for free at the dentist and carried around in his fanny pack. Mike asked to use it once and Eddie went on a rant of how unsanitary that was.

Richie never paid attention to it before, but he now wished he could smell the sweet scent radiating off of Eddie’s lips. He wanted to taste it.

Eddie’s mind drifted to the carving he saw at the kissing bridge on his way home. Wishing for it to mean what he fantasized about. Realistically knowing it didn't.

Richie had not yet backed up from when he took a step closer to examine Eddie’s cut. He wondered if it hurt. He wondered if it would hurt when pressed against someone’s lips.

The sentence echoed through Eddie’s head as they had since they were first spoken, “Maybe you aren't so different from us, from me, as you think.”

Eddie took a deep breath, “What did you mean last night when you said I wasn't as different from you as I thought.”

Richie was quiet. Was he going to do this? Beverly’s advice was to talk things out. Bill’s advice would probably be to act. The two options battled in his mind. One seemed to be winning, but it could end in disaster. But... it might just be worth it. 

Eddie waited with anticipation for an answer. Questioning with each second that passed if it was a mistake to ask.

Richie sauntered closer to Eddie, looking into his caramel eyes. The closer he got, the more he felt in a trance. 

Eddie held his breath. What was Richie doing? A small part of him wanted to step back as he got into the habit of doing when the one he longed after got too near.

Richie reached out and tentatively placed his hand on the side of Eddie’s face. Eddie couldn't believe this was happening. Richie’s thumb glided over Eddie’s bottom lip. Over the cut. Eddie’s cheek burned in Richie’s hand, as he imagined it to a couple of nights ago when he had his cold and laid sick in bed, imaging a fantasy he never dared to imagine before. 

Eddie’s breath was shallow as he looked up at his friend. He was beautiful. His lips and his eyelashes and his jaw and his eyes. Every feature filled Eddie with butterflies. Both boys’ hearts beat rapidly. Eddie was as still as possible, he feared if he moved it would wake him from this dream coming to life.

Richie guided Eddie’s head closed. And Richie moved in closer as well, to meet Eddie in the middle. Richie did so slowly, wanting to savor the moment. Wanting to savor the anticipation. But also, he moved slowly to give Eddie every chance to shove him away if Richie was dead wrong about what he prayed to be a mutual feeling.

When the two were inches apart, they closed their eyes. Not needing to pay attention to the world around them. All that mattered to each was the other. The other’s breath felt of their lips.

In the middle, they met.

Eddie felt dizzy. 

Richie felt like his insides were melting.

Their lips were at first still. Getting used to this new sensation. Getting used to the shock of this reality taking place between two childhood friends. 

Richie was the first to pull away, but only slightly. It was to Eddie dismay, thinking the moment was already over. 

The two opened their eyes half-lidded and gazed into each other. Richie tilted his head in another direction and pulled Eddie in for another kiss. Richie’s lips were slightly parted this time and closed tenderly on Eddie’s. The better half of Eddie’s bottom lip was puffed up from the scar tissue protecting the injury, and it felt a little awkward, but Richie couldn’t give a fuck. And neither could Eddie about the stinging contact the pressure created.

Eddie melted into his friend and cupped his hand over Richie’s that held his cheek. Richie settled his other hand on Eddie’s hip, pulling him closer. Eddie held onto his forearm, encouraging the action.

Eddie followed Richie’s lead and parted his mouth to close around Richie’s. He tasted like cigarettes.

Richie sighed into the kiss with delight. His shoulders relaxed. His body relaxed. The two had fallen into synch with the other’s lips. Richie removed his palm from Eddie’s freckled cheek and ran his fingers through Eddie’s hazel hair. Their noses brushed against each others' again and again. 

A knock interrupted the blissful exchange. The two jumped apart from each other and Eddie pointed Richie to his closed in a wordless panic. Richie quickly hid and Eddie announced to his mother, “Come in.” His voice was more high pitched than usual.

Eddie’s mother opened the door and looked at him strangely for standing in the middle of his room, but disregarded it and exclaimed, “Oh Eddie Bear, your face is flushed. Your lips are red! Oh, I told you it would get infected! You know how sensitive you are to these things.” She barged into the room and grabbed onto Eddie’s wrist, dragging him out and into the kitchen for more ointment.

Richie hid quietly in the closet. Fingers to his lips. They felt softer than usual. Warmer. The ghost of Eddie’s kiss still lingered. In the distance, he heard Eddie’s protests of his mother’s smothering and Richie chuckled to himself.

Eddie was released from his mother’s captivity and hurriedly scattered back into his room to get back to Richie, wiping the medicine off onto the hoodie’s sleeve. He swung open the closet door was bemused to see Richie crowded in a sea of his clothes. 

Eddie led Richie out from his closet and the two couldn't hide their smiles and bashful nature from the other. Neither had ever felt so giddy. Neither had ever felt the world was as magical or as beautiful of a place as when they look into each other's eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It happened! It happened! It happened! We are screaming!
> 
> What does the future hold in store for our two beautiful boys? I, personally, have no clue! Let me drink 5 cups of coffee and try to figure that out. I’m not ready to let go of this story just yet
> 
> (Edit: more chapters are to come! writer's block is a bitch but this story is not ending!)


	13. Irrelevant Autumn Flashback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The positivity I received for my last chapter was incredibly “touching” (lmao)  
I am so very sorry to have taken such a long break  
I felt stuck for a while, but I think I now know where I want to head next with this fic  
This chapter is a Flashback!!! So none of the expressing feelings stuff has happened yet  
I wrote this while I was feeling hella festive and angry at myself for not having this fic take place during the holidays  
Wasn't sure if this would fit in with the story or if I was going to post it at all but then decided: fuck it

Richie, in his maroon beanie just barely managing to shield his black curls, followed Eddie through the corn maze. Bill and Mike were also somewhere in the maze, navigating the territory as well. Stan, Beverly, and Ben perused through rows upon rows of pumpkins, waiting for their friends to finish the maze.

Eddie wore a knitted sweater and button-up underneath. The hint of a collar at his neck and cuffs around his wrists exposed the gingham pattern. He wore a ski hat that covered his ears and black wool gloves. Eddie took no chance of being unprepared for cold weather that could potentially result in him getting a cold.

Richie followed Eddie. It was a natural decision for Eddie to lead. He had the best sense of direction. When the gang would go exploring through the sewers, Eddie always seemed to know the way out. With Eddie as Richie’s teammate, they were sure to get out before Bill and Mike. After all, they had $5 running on a bet that they would.

Eddie walked hastily, shuffling through the leaves scattered on the path. Richie had to be sure not to let his eyes wonder. If his eyes were off Eddie’s figure for a second, he would be sure to lose him. Richie had jokingly proposed holding hands, but Eddie turned that suggestion down quick. 

Richie wanted to talk about Halloween costumes or scary movies, but Eddie kept telling him that his talking was distracting and would get them lost. So Richie was silent and trying to focus. Two things he was not good at.

As Eddie walked, he tried to picture the maze from a bird's eye view. Each dead-end they reached helped the picture form even farther. He tried to focus on the maze and winning the $5, not on the boy following closely behind him. Still, there was an eerie feeling that mazes gave off. Even though others participated and were lost amongst the maze along with Richie and Eddie, not seeing those individuals made you feel quite alone. Secluded amongst corn stocks with whoever you were with. And Eddie was with Richie. 

Richie hadn't intended to, as he never does, but he got distracted. He saw a ladybug sat on a leaf leaning onto the path. He held out his pointer finger for the ladybug to climb onto. Just as soon as Richie had looked away, he looked back up to see Eddie was gone. The ladybug crawled along Richie’s finger and onto his palm. Richie counted 3 black spots on the little friend. He had once heard in elementary school that the number of spots told you how many months old the ladybug was. He wondered if that was true. Stan would probably know.

Richie proceeded forward with his tiny red companion in search of his human companion. Eddie couldn't possibly have gone too far in such a short amount of time, Richie told himself.

Eddie walked along the path with the same eerie silence as before when all of a sudden it seemed to become even more silent. He felt even more secluded. Eddie turned around to see Richie had vanished. Shit, Eddie thought annoyed. He began to track his steps backward to find his helpless friend. There was no telling how lost Richie could get himself in under 2 minutes.

After a few corners and dead ends, Eddie called out, “Trashmouth?”

Luckily, he received a reply of, “Eds! Where are you?”

Eddie followed the direction of the voice, but when coming upon the location he heard it from, no one was there. 

“Rich, I'm by some...corn. Does my voice sound closer?”

Eddie stood in place looking in all directions when, chillingly, a hand from out of nowhere grabbed his wrist and yanked. Eddie yelped and was pulled through a wall of corn stocks and out into an open field with Richie.

Eddie jerked his wrist from Richie and once recovered from the fright he had been given, looked around the field bemused, “You managed to wander outside of the maze? How? There's a fucking path!”

“There was a gap in the corn! I thought it was another way! But look, I made a friend.” Richie held open his hand for Eddie to see the ladybug. It crawled in circles.

Eddie looked down at the creature, slightly grossed out. “It will probably pee on you if it hasn't already.” 

“She,” Richie corrected. “Not ‘it’. She will probably pee on me if she hasn't. And that would be the most action I've ever gotten.”

Eddie laughed, “Gross.”

The field was one of green and yellowed grass that was as tall as your ankles. In the far distance were rows of indistinguishable crops. No one was to be seen. 

“We should get back to the maze.”

“What's the rush, Spaghetti?” Richie asked. Not looking at Eddie, but looking at the ladybug. Wondering what her name should be. Dorthy, maybe?

“The bet.” Stated Eddie. He surely didn't want to lose $5 because Richie got distracted by a bug.

“Bill and Mike will take years! Mike is probably talking Bill’s ear off about conspiracy theories right now. Did you hear him last week at lunch going off about how the moon landing was faked? What a nut.” 

Eddie shook his head at Richie’s lack of competitive drive and adjusted his ski hat that began to slide forward, “I thought he brought up some good points.”

Richie headed towards the wall of corn that Eddie was pulled through and for a second Eddie thought he was going back inside, but instead he just placed the ladybug onto a leaf. 

“Just because someone is enthusiastic doesn't make them right. You can be confident as hell that the sun revolves around the earth, but that doesn't change the solar system.”

Eddie waited for a punchline, but Richie seemed to have been done talking. “That's actually kind of insightful, Rich.”

“I'm up to my balls in insight, Eds. Didn't you know?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. That's the Richie he knew.

“Do you want to make leaf angels?” Richie asked, staring out at an attractive looking leaf pile.

“What are those?”

“Leaf angels! Like snow angels, but leaves!” He exclaimed, then walked over to the leaf pile. He kicked them around to spread the leaves on the ground more evenly. “Like this,” and then Richie lied down onto his back, moving his arms and legs from side to side like when making a snow angel.

Eddie looked down at his dorky friend in the leaves. He felt butterflies in his stomach. Against his better judgment that the longer they stayed out here the more likely they were to lose, Eddie laid down next to Richie and began to make his own. Richie and Eddie both laughed and listened to the crunching of the leaves in their ears.

Richie, when satisfied with his effort, stood up first and offered his hand to Eddie to help him up. Eddie sheepishly took it.

Together they stood back and looked at their creations. 

“Your angel has freakishly long arms. Or wings, I guess,” Eddie teased.

“Just like me! And yours is petite and adorable, just like you!” 

Eddie eyed Richie, who was still marveling over their angels, from the corner of his vision. His cheeks and nose were bright red from the biting cold. Curls peaked out from his beanie. The dark color of his hair contrasted against his pale complexion and rosy cheeks. Eddie worried if Richie had on enough layers to keep him warm. Eddie felt silly for worrying, but still asked, “Are you warm enough?”

Richie broke his gaze from the angels to look at Eddie, “I'm okay. Why? Are you offering to warm me?”

Eddie scoffed and hoped his blush would be seen as from the cold and not from the suggestion, “I was going to offer you my gloves. You didn't dress very well for the cold.”

Richie looked down at his t-shirt, flannel, and jeans and shrugged, “I'm warm enough. You keep the gloves. Your hands dry out fast in the cold.”

Eddie softened at the random factoid Richie knew about his friend, though it was a little embarrassing. Feeling more affection the longer he spent time with Richie, as so often was the case these days, Eddie said again to free himself from the nerves of being alone together, “Let's finish the maze. I want to win that $5.”

Richie compiled this time and the two reentered the maze. “You know it’s $5 in total, not $5 each. We could split it to $2.50, but that doesn't buy a whole lot. I think we should agree on something to get for both of us.” While Eddie considered this, Richie added, “Or I can just tackle you and take the $5 for myself.”

Eddie scoffed, “You could tackle me, but I wouldn't let you take it. Id fight you for it and win.”

“What do you mean you'd win? I'm bigger!”

“But I have moxy.”

“Ha! That’s true,” Richie agreed. “Like a rabid squirrel.”

Soon the two would make it out of the maze and win that $5. It took Bill and Mike another 10 minutes before they finally stumbled out of the maze, glad to see civilization again. 

Richie and Eddie, after much bickering and mediation from Beverly, agreed to spend the $5 on caramel popcorn and apple cider at the snack booth. The losers all sat on hay barrels and chatted. Though the popcorn was a product of Richie and Eddie’s winning, they shared it with the rest of their friends. Richie, Bill, and Beverly competed in who could throw a kernel in the air and catch it in their mouth the most times. Richie was horrible at it. Eddie had half a mind to fuss at him to stop wasting the popcorn if he was no good at it, but when Richie would throw a kernel in the air and it would come back down to hit him on his nose or cheek, Richie’s face would scrunch up. Eddie found that to be very cute, so he let the popcorn wastage slide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter will be posted tomorrow that actually progresses the story!!  
I hope this was enjoyable even though short and irrelevant lol  
((I am absolutely terrified now that no one will read this bc I've taken such a long break they probably think I'm done))  
((((fuck))))


	14. How's your lip feel?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People are so nice to me it is unreal  
What did I do to deserve it

Eddie and Richie stood staring at each other, grinning. The unspoken question of “What next?” hung in the air. 

Eddie couldn't believe what had just happened. If someone would have told him a week ago that Richie would kiss him, Eddie would have told them to go to hell for the cruel taunting. Parts of his mind even still tried to prepare him for possible heartache. That this might be one of Richie’s jokes being taken too far. Eddie felt nothing short of glee for getting to experience what he had imagined for months, but he also prepared for the cruel possibility that at any moment Richie might start laughing at Eddie’s expense. That was the exact kind of irrational fear that caused him to never act on his feelings in the first place.

Richie couldn't believe his bravery. The change that had taken place in him the last few days made his insides feel bright and vibrant like he was now filled with yellows and reds and oranges when with Eddie. If someone would have told Richie a week ago that he would kiss Eddie, he would have laughed and turned it into a joke! Suggesting that he was going to kiss Eddie’s mom, not Eddie. And here he was! Wanting to kiss Eddie again. To go back to 10 minutes ago when Richie’s hand was in Eddie’s hair. 

Not being able to draw his eyes away from what he craved to go back to, Richie looked at Eddie’s lips. The cut made yesterday was a crimson half-circle against Eddie’s pink hue. Richie hoped he hadn't made it any worse.

“How's your lip feel?”

Eddie wasn't sure what he was asking at first and stammered, but when realizing he was only referring to the cut, Eddie laughed uneasily at himself, “It's fine.” And then added when Richie didn't look back up from his lip, “It stings a little, but it's fine.”

“Sorry if I made it any worse,” Richie apologized in a teasing nature. 

Eddie looked down at the floor blushing profusely, “You didn't.”

The two stood in place. Both unsure of what was supposed to happen next. Were they supposed to talk about it? It was all quite shocking, truthfully. Something long wished for coming to life, and yet both boys didn't know what to do with it. Like wishing for a million dollars and receiving it only to sit and wonder, what will I buy first?

With Eddie standing still in front of him, looking flushed and nervous, Richie was drained of the courage that surged through him before he kissed Eddie in the first place. The boy that stood before him looked so cute. So lovely. Richie couldn't get himself to make eye contact. Richie felt so nervous. Had he done a good job? Did it feel nice for Eddie? Would Eds want to do that again with him? Richie hoped to god the answers were all yes. With the courage lost and replaced with butterflies, Richie tried to think of something to talk about. He felt tongue-tied. Unable to come up with words. What was wrong with Richie? Anyone who knew him could tell you that has never been a problem before. A passing thought went through Richie’s head and he grabbed onto it desperately for conversation.

“Can I see the picture again?”

Eddie blinked a couple of times and dazedly walked to his desk, fumbling for the notebook out of a drawer. He handed it to Richie. 

Richie flipped through the pages to find the drawing and marveled at the piece of paper. Was this how Eddie saw Richie? Did Eddie think Richie’s hair was so dark or that his features were so defined? Richie always found himself to be goofy looking. And so did other people. On more occasions than he could count on both hands, he was teased for his glasses or nose or ears at school. In this picture, Richie thought he looked handsome. Did Eddie see him this way? Did Eddie think he was handsome? 

Richie, not thinking through this next action, proceeded to rip the page out of the notebook. 

He had just finished before Eddie could whisper in a panic, “What are you fucking doing? You piece of shit I wasn't done with that!”

“I wanted to keep it,” Richie answered innocently.

“Like hell you're gonna keep it, give it back!”

Eddie grabbed for the drawing and Richie quickly held it behind his back. Eddie in his lounge forward became chest and chest with Richie and reached around him to reclaim it. Both boys' hands were grasped onto the drawing, wrinkling it. The excitement and anticipation Richie felt before their first kiss encaptured him again. He looked into Eddie, challenging him. Challenging him to make the first move this time.

Eddie froze at the familiar look, recognizing that glint in Richie’s eyes. It was the same glint he would get when daring Eddie to eat a bug. Or to jump in the freezing cold quarry half-naked. Or more simply, as he did yesterday, to drink from the same glass he drank from. The look always taunted, “I bet you won't.” 

Eddie released his grip from the drawing and slowly moved back, not brave enough to take the challenge. 

Richie, disappointed, handed the drawing back to him. “Sorry. Wasn't thinking.”

Eddie took the drawing and went back over to his desk. He smoothed out the piece of paper and placed it back into his notebook, then put it away. He walked past Richie and sat on the end of his bed, “Maybe when I'm finished you can have it.” 

Richie sat down next to him, a foot away. A foot farther away than he wanted to be. 

“You don't have to give it to me. It looks so cool you should probably keep it and start an art portfolio or something. Like Ben does with his sketches of bridges. I really liked the drawing of the oak tree outside the English room that you did. You drew so many fucking leaves I don't know how you had the patience for that. And they were all, like, different. Fat leaves and small leaves and cracked leaves.”

Eddie stretched his arms out to place a hand at each knee. He was bashful, impressed Richie remembered this drawing done months ago. Even more impressed he remembered details from it. Not looking at Richie, Eddie smiled but shook his head in disagreement at the praise. “It's embarrassing.”

“Well, do you want to see something? Something that's embarrassing? Not that I think your art is embarrassing! But if you're embarrassed then I'll be embarrassed showing you this and we’ll be even.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow at Richie’s yammering, “Alright. Sure.”

Richie reached for his backpack that sat next to the bed and took out his history book. He glanced at Eddie before opening it to the page that safely kept the image of the two yesterday in Richie’s own bed. He wondered if this was a dumb idea. He worried it would seem creepy, but he was already pulling out the photo and it was too late to turn back. Richie set the school book onto the ground as he handed the polaroid to Eddie.

Eddie held it in his hand. He peered at it confused for a moment, not knowing what he was looking at, and then laughed, “Oh, what the fuck?” 

Richie snatched the photo back offended, “You're the one that drew a picture!”

“Nono I just...” He chuckled again. “I can't believe you took that. I look so sad.”

“You're sleeping! You look peaceful. And sweet, unlike when you're awake!” 

Eddie was delighted as he looked over the polaroid along with Richie. In the photo, Richie showed off a true smile. It was a smile you usually only get to experience from Richie in real life. A smiled he never showed cameras. But in this photograph, he smiled real and true. Why did Richie even take this? Why was he carrying it with him? 

“I look ridiculous,” Eddie murmured, trying to hide how flattered he was. “You can't show that to anyone else.”

Richie found that request to be a step up than Eddie demanding Richie get rid of the picture immediately like he assumed he would. In the back of his mind, Richie knew this would be a promise broken before it was made. Beverly had seen it that morning. But Eddie didn't have to know that. Not right now. Richie would not show the picture to anyone else (excluding Beverly) from here on out if that meant he got to keep it in his bedside table to look upon it when missing Eds. 

“Deal.”

As Richie reclaimed the textbook to put away the picture he barely heard the faint voice of Eddie say, “You have a really nice smile.”

It was a compliment so quiet that Richie almost didn't catch it. He turned back to Eddie who was looking away and out his window. Richie put the textbook in his backpack and laid onto his back. 

Eddie glanced back to Richie now laying down but stayed sitting up himself. Richie folded his hands over his stomach and stared at the back of Eddie’s head. 

“What are you thinking about,” Richie asked.

Eddie shrugged his shoulders. In a time where all Eddie should feel is joy that his crush of so long has repaid his feelings, unknown answers to questions paraded his mind and clouded the potential paradise. How long has he been making himself miserable when he could have had this, Richie, all along? Eddie felt cheated of possible weeks or months he could have been happy if he would have just acted on his feelings. If he had just taken the chance. Though, Eddie knew he would never have. A lifetime would have gone by without him knowing. He would have never taken the chance of being rejected. Of being outcasted by his friends or by his mom or by his school or by his town. With an awful sick feeling, Eddie realized he still didn't want to take that chance. Would he ever be able to tell his other friends? Tell his mother? To let the kids at school find out? Eddie drew in less and less breath with each new question arising in his head. 

A cold plastic item was placed in Eddie’s hand, causing him to return to reality. In his disappointing self-reflection, he hadn't noticed that Richie grabbed Eddie’s inhaler for him. He sheepishly took a breath with its assistance. Eddie thanked Richie, who only nodded in response and laid back down.

Richie wanted to ask Eddie again what he was thinking about. He had hoped he wasn't the one giving Eddie anxiety at this moment. Richie himself felt like he needed a hit from Eddie’s inhaler, or a cigarette. Something to soothe him. His stomach twisted as he wondered if he had done the right thing. If it was a good thing he now changed their friendship forever by kissing him. And if it was, why didn't Eddie kiss him a moment ago when it was the perfect moment?

Richie locked and unlocked his fingers together. He picked at the fabric of his shirt. He laid his arms by his sides and drummed on the mattress with his fingers. Then he asked the question, “What happened was a...good thing. Right?”

Eddie looked back at Richie in a fret, “Yes!” Then self-conscious of his excitement lowered his tone, “I mean, yes. It was a good thing.” He looked back to the window. There were smudges of fingerprints on the glass from the times he has snuck Richie into his room. Bill sometimes would hang out with Eddie this way, but it was usually Richie.

Richie drummed his fingers to the rhythm of Rock Lobster. “Did you like it?”

Eddie didn't look back this time to answer. His thumb ran over an engraved serial number on his inhaler, “Yeah, I did.”

Richie ceased his drumming and returned his hands to fold over his stomach. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, smiling.

The sound of the home phone rang throughout the house. Eddie and Richie both stayed still and quiet to hear Ms. Kaspbrak answer the phone and possibly who it was.

There were a few muffled words Eddie didn't hear, but a clear and loud “Edward! Phone!” was yelled across the house and made Eddie jump. He stood up to leave his room and shoved the inhaler in his sweatpants pocket. At his door, he turned back to Richie, “You should hide. Just in case.” Richie sighed and got off the bed to hide in the cramped closet again.

Eddie retrieved the phone and walked into the hallway that led to his room. Not entering his room or his mother would get suspicious of secrecy, but still out of earshot.

“Hello?” Eddie asked.

“Hey, it’s Stan. Think you could make it to my place for a sleepover tonight?”

“I would have to come really late. Mom says I can't leave the house, but I can sneak out after she's asleep. Once she takes her night meds there's not a chance of her waking up before 10 am.”

“What did you do to get in trouble?”

“I bit my lip.”

Stan was silent for a second, confused, “You were grounded for biting your lip?”

“Nevermind. Who else is coming?”

“So far just Bill and Mike. Ben said he had something else planned with Beverly today. I can't get ahold of Richie.”

Eddie looked to his bedroom door, amused. “Yeah, I’m having trouble with that too.”

“The others are coming over at around 6 pm, but if you can't come until later that's fine. And if you talk to Richie today can you tell him about it?”

“Sure,” Eddie promised, looking again at his bedroom door.

“Great, see you tonight.”

Eddie reentered the living room to return the phone to its rightful place.

“What was that about?” Eddie’s mother asked from the kitchen.

“Stanley was asking if I could go over for a sleepover tonight. I told him I couldn't,” Eddie lied.

Sonya peeked her head out from the kitchen and smiled at her son warmly, “Good boy.” She praised. 

Eddie went back into his room and opened the closet door to release Richie for the second time today. He was met with a ridiculous sight.

Richie stood covered in Eddie’s clothes. Most articles were thrown over his shoulders, though a few he wore. Underneath the clothes thrown over himself, Richie wore Eddie’s ski hat, a shirt too small that would have exposed his entire midriff if not for his own shirt he wore underneath, and over his jeans he wore Eddie’s shorts. 

With a sock over each of Richie’s hands, he grabbed his friend by the shoulders, “Eds, you wouldn't believe it! Your clothes started attacking me!”

“You made a mess! You're going to stretch out my shirt you beanpole!” Eddie complained, but his tone read amusement, not annoyance.

Richie took off the ski hat and put it onto Eddie’s head while he removed the socks, shorts, and shirt. He began returning the clothes to their rightful place.

Eddie took off the hat and tossed it back to Richie.

“Stan is having a sleepover tonight.”

“Yeah?"

“Yeah. At 6 pm. He asked me to come and to tell you about it if we talked today. He couldn't reach you at your house.”

Richie mocked a confused tone, “I wonder why that is.” He closed the closet door now that Eddie’s clothes were away and took a seat at Eddie’s desk. “Guess I’ve been busy.”

Eddie's face flushed. “I told him I would come. You’ll go too, right?”

Richie stuffed his hands into his pockets and shook his head at Eddie, “Young man, aren't you grounded?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I'll just have to get there late and leave early.”

“Well yeah, of course I'll go.” Richie thought about spending another night away from home without checking in on his parents. He wasn't sure how wise that would be. They were usually quick to forgive if Richie disappeared at night during one of their fights. They would both feel too guilty to be upset. But not being home for two nights unannounced would make them worry. Plus Richie needed a shower and new clothes.

“I'll have to stop by my place first.”

Eddie nodded and felt the inhaler through is pocket in thought. When Eddie had gone by Richie’s house earlier today, his dad didn't look so good.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Eddie offered.

“No buddy, I'm fine. And you shouldn't be pushing your luck with sneaking out so much in one day.”

Eddie sat back on his bed and took out his inhaler to give his hands something to fiddle with. Eddie wondered what it would be like hanging with the losers now that what happened between Eddie and Richie happened. Would they act differently in front of people when together now? Would people find out? Would they be able to tell the two had kissed just by looking at them?

Eddie remembered the feeling of Richie’s warm lips against his own. The thought made the cut on his lip sting reliving the memory. 

“You can't tell anyone,” Eddie announced.

“About the photo?” Richie scoffed, “Eds I told you I won't show it to anyone and you look ador-”

“No. About what happened.”

Richie's heart sank when realizing what Eddie meant. Richie wasn't allowed to tell anyone about the kiss. It wasn't until Eddie said that when Richie realized how much he wanted to. He wanted to tell Beverly how helpful her advice had been and to let Bill gloat that he was right all along. 

Richie was about to suggest that it wouldn't be so bad if their friends knew, but Eddie spoke again, “I'm serious. No one. Please.”

Eddie set his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands. Not yet, Eddie thought. He wasn't ready for his whole life to change. Not yet.

Richie looked to the pencils held in the Derry fair mug on Eddie’s desk. Just last night he was thinking about this mug and how happy Eddie had been when he won it. Looking at it filled Richie with endearment for his friend all over again. It was frustrating, but if Eddie wasn't ready, if he wanted to wait, then Richie would do that. Richie wasn't going to mess this up. He couldn't remember a time in his life when the world went as quiet as it did when he was kissing Eddie.

“Okay,” Richie agreed. He smiled at Eddie reassuringly, though still disappointed he couldn't tell Beverly or Bill. Or the rest of the losers. Or the whole world. 

Richie wanted a cigarette but figured Eddie wouldn't be cool with him smoking out his window like Richie does at his own house. “I think I'm gonna head home now. Accept my half-assed punishment if my parents even decide to give one.”

Eddie lifted his head from his hands, sad Richie was leaving so soon and he would have to find something to do all day while waiting for the sleepover tonight. He looked down at himself still wearing Richie’s hoodie. “Oh wait,” he said.

Eddie stood up and gripped the edge of the hoodie beginning the motion of pull it off. When it had gotten to his belly button, Richie’s face went red and he stammered, “W-what are you doing?”

Eddie, insecure of his tummy exposed, dropped the hoodie back over himself. “I'm giving you your hoodie back.”

Eddie turned away from Richie this time and stood in front of his closet. He quickly slipped off the hoodie and opened the door to grab the first t-shirt he saw. The air on his exposed skin and the watchful eyes of Richie made goosebumps form on his arms.

Richie’s face flushed looking at Eddie’s back. His bare skin. Along his shoulders were freckles just like the ones on his cheeks. Richie was disappointed to see the hoodie off of his friend. Well, he didn't mind seeing the hoodie off of Eddie. He didn't mind at all seeing Eddie’s shoulder freckles, but Richie strangely liked seeing his clothes on Eds. He couldn't reason with himself why that was.

Eddie threw on a long-sleeved t-shirt and ran a hand through his hair to smooth it out from the changing. He turned back to Richie and handed him the hoodie.

“Here. Thanks for letting me borrow it.” Though, as Eddie reached out to hand off the clothing, he was sad to part with it.

“You can keep it a little longer…” Richie pushed up his glasses shyly, “If you want.”

“Oh,” Eddie sheepishly laid the sweatshirt on his bed, “Alright.”

Richie reclaimed his backpack and swung it around his shoulder. Eddie opened the window for him to climb out. With one leg outside the window, Richie turned back to ask, “Do you want me to come over later and we can ride to Stan’s together?”

Eddie smiled guiltily, “I'll be really late. You should go ahead and I'll see you there.”

“If you say so, Spaghetti.”

Richie climbed out the rest of the way. Eddie stood with his hands on the window ready to close it. Richie didn't yet move towards his bike so Eddie waited to see if he was going to say something. 

Richie hesitated for a moment, but then quickly leaned in to kiss Eddie on the cheek. He lingered for a second, or maybe two seconds, and pulled away. Richie smiled once more at his friend and then rode away.

Eddie watched him ride off and placed the palm of his hand to his cheek where Richie’s lips had been. He used his other hand to close the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should revamp my description of this story. I don’t think the one I wrote in the beginning is worded very well and I would hate if people scrolled past this because the description was bad lol. If anyone has suggestions or thinks I should keep it the same let me know! 
> 
> Or you could just let me know what you ate for dinner and I would still get super excited I just love messages


	15. Parents Suck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am definitely wearing the cone of shame for being gone so long

The closer Richie got to his house, the less he wanted to be there. The less he wanted to go inside and into the dead silence that followed a fight of his parents. The nerve-wracking resting period before the next one.

Nevertheless, Richie rode up to his front lawn and left his bike in its familiar place in the grass. The place where the grass was slightly sunken from being his bike’s rest stop. 

Richie crept to his front door, opened, and then slowly closed it. Practically tiptoeing, he was making his way to the staircase that led to his room when his father stepped in front of him. 

With a smile on his face and a tone of sarcasm, he greeted his son, “Well, hello there Richard. How was your night?”

Richie sighed in defeat and smiled back at his dad. “Oh, it was a real hoot. Hitchhiked to New York and met a man from Australia,” for the next bit Richie attempted a crude Australian accent, “He told me ‘bout spiders as big as your head in the outback and rats as big as your head in Jersey!”

“Ha!” Richie’s dad barked with laughter and leaned lazily against the staircase railing. “That does sound like a real hoot.” He looked down at the floorboards and adjusted his glasses with his pointer finger and thumb. “So listen, I was thinking we should all go out to dinner tonight. How does that sound?”

Richie scanned his surroundings to see if his mother was around and asked, without the accent, “What, like, all three of us?”

“All of us!” Richie’s father cheered, “Any place you like kiddo, you name it!”

Richie’s family never went out to eat together. They used to treat themselves to a nice dinner every payday, but in the last couple of years as his parents started having less and less extra cash lying around, eating out was a thing of the past. And Richie’s parents wanting to all go together? That had to be a sign they were getting along.

“Applebee’s?”

“Sure! Great choice! Your mother will be home around six and we can go then.”

It was just as Richie’s dad said six that he remembered the sleepover he promised Eddie he’d go to. But his parents wanting to go out to dinner together? There was no telling when the next time this would happen again. And Eddie wouldn't be getting to the sleepover until way later anyways, Richie was sure he could manage to do both.

His father stepped out of Richie’s way to allow him to head upstairs. Richie was a third up the stairs when he figured that his dad seemed in such a good mood, he decided to ask his permission for the sleepover now in case his mood changed later.

“And Dad? Stan is having a sleepover tonight. It would be cool if I went after dinner, right?”

Richie’s dad pursed his lips and uncomfortably shifted his balance from one leg to the other. “You better ask your mom about that. And ask after dinner. You did disappear last night, Richard.”

Shit, Richie thought. Being told to ask Mom for something was a sure no. 

“No one calls me by my full name, Dad.” 

Richie’s dad wandered out of the living room and towards his office calling back to his son, “Okay, Dick! Whatever you say!”

Richie rolled his eyes and continued to his bedroom. He unpacked his quilt from his backpack and laid it onto his bed but then saw it was covered in dirt and stunk of smoke. He took it off his bed left it disregarded on the ground to be washed later. Come to think of it, Richie smelled his shirt, he stunk of smoke too. A little embarrassed for smelling like an ashtray when at Eddie’s, Richie grabbed a towel and a fresh pair of clothes to go take a shower. 

Under the warm water, Richie felt the dirt accumulated from sleeping in the clubhouse wash away. He screwed his eyes shut and scrubbed shampoo in his hair. The sensation of his own hands in his hair gave him pause as he recalled the feeling of his hand in someone else’s hair earlier. Eddie’s. And how Eddie gripped Richie’s forearm to bring him closer. Presumably enjoying the bursts of new and exciting sensations as much as Richie did. 

Distracted by these memories that were bleeding into fantasies, Richie scrubbed his scalp slower and his eyes parted slightly recalling how Eddie’s eyes were half-lidded and dreamy when the two were centimeters apart. Upon parting his eyes, shampoo dripped past Richie’s eyebrow and into his cornea.

“Shit,” Richie complain in pain to himself, rubbing his eye and facing the stream of water to wash the soap from it.

A rather pleasurable turned painful shower later, Richie dried off his locks in a towel and changed into a loose-fitting Metallica t-shirt and basketball shorts. Richie had never and did not plan on ever playing basketball for his school, but he sometimes would play with Stan who did intend on trying out next year. And sometimes Mike would talk him into playing touch football when the weather was nice. Still, sports were not Richie's forte. He was skinny and lanky and stumbled over himself. It was fine to make a fool of himself in front of his friends, but he would never intentionally make a fool of himself in front of the whole school. Unintentionally, he did so all the time. He didn't need to ask for more taunting than he already received. 

Richie returned to his bedroom with one eye squinting and some time to kill. He decided now was a great time for that last cigarette. He set up his fan to blow air out his window and took out his candle to be lit afterward. His familiar routine.

Richie moves aside his wet curls that hang onto his forehead and lifts the cigarette to his lips. Just as he's about to light it, his dad walks in.

The moment happens so fast Richie’s reflexes weren't nearly fast enough to realize the door was opening and to hide his cigarette behind his back or to toss it quickly somewhere in his room out of sight.

With the cigarette hanging out of his lips and a lighter in his hand, his bedroom door creaks open and there stands his dad, looking blankly at the cancer stick. He clears his throat awkwardly and motions with his right hand for Richie to put the cigarette away. Richie scrambles to put it back into its case and shoves both the lighter and box into his pockets.

His dad shakes his head amused at his son’s panic and saunters over to Richie’s bed to take a seat. He has to walk around the abandoned quilt and backpack on the floor. His dad’s eyes are focused on the camera Richie left on his bed the day before. The camera he had borrowed without asking and used to take a picture of him and Eddie. Mr. Tozier, sitting on Richie’s bed, picked up the camera and set it onto his lap, examining it. He is silent and Richie feels dreadfully uncomfortable having just been caught smoking in the house and now also with his dad’s prised camera. He prepared himself for a lecture.

“Richard,” His dad starts, “You know your mother and I have been having some difficulties lately.”

Richie straightens in his chair, weirded out that this was being addressed. No one ever brought up the arguments after they had ended.

“Yeah, I guess,” Richie confirms quietly.

Mr. Tozier turns the camera over in his hands, Richie thanked God it was dry by now.

“Well, I was going to surprise her by taking us out to dinner when she got home from her errands, but she just called me. She's at her sister’s right now. By the sound of it, she's going to be staying over there for a while.” His dad looked up to his son, sorry to be telling him this. “But we can still go out to dinner tonight,” He assured.

Richie’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion for his dad’s priorities, “I don't care about dinner. When’s Mom coming home?”

Mr. Tozier looked back to the camera to avoid his son’s eyes and shrugged his shoulders, “Her suitcase and some clothes are gone. She wouldn't give me an exact day, but I don't think it will be too long. Not more than a week. She just needs to clear her head. You know how emotional she can get. But please don't be mad at her Rich-”

“I'm not mad at her,” Richie interrupts. He looked to the floor and blinked again and again. Tears pooled at his eyelids and Richie wished he could tell himself it was just because of the irritation from the soap, but the unburned eye formed tears too.

Richie’s dad nodded his head dumbly, “Good. Good because-”

“I'm mad at you,” Richie admitted at almost a whisper.

His father’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Oh,” Was all he could say.

Richie turned in his chair to face out the window. It was true, he wasn't mad at his mom. He wasn't mad at his mom for worrying about how to pay off debt or to keep up with bills. He wasn't mad at her for feeling on the outside when Richie’s dad would act as his son’s friend instead of a father. He didn't like how his mother would react, it could be handled in better ways, but he still wasn't mad when his mother got fed up and raised her voice or slammed doors. Richie was mad at his dad. The instigator. The self-proclaimed victim.

The two sat in heavy silence. Richie looked out to the tree in the front yard while trying to will his eyes to stop forming tears. Mr. Tozier still sat on Richie’s bed and turned the camera over in his hands with his head down, not knowing what to say next. After his father couldn't take the silence anymore (the Tozier’s were never very good with silence) he stated, “I'll order a pizza tonight.”

Without missing a beat Richie replied, “I'll be at Stan’s for dinner.” 

His dad, finally, stood from the bed. He walked over to Richie’s desk and Richie was almost convinced for a moment that his dad was about to hug him, but he just sat down his camera, leaving it for his son. 

“Alright then.” Was his final comment as he turned around and left his son’s room. Closing the door on the way out.

Richie folded his arms on the window seal and laid his head down onto them. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It felt good, and it reminded him of the phrase he repeated to his friend the other day at the arcade when he couldn't catch his breath. The situation was just about laughable now that Eddie was okay. Richie repeated the phrase to himself in his head and he took another deep breath, but this time when he breathed out, it turned into a dry sob. 

Richie sat back up frustrated and discarded his glasses. He put his head in the palms of his hands and tried the breathing exercise once again. Telling himself to get a grip. He inhaled deeply and upon breathing out this time, the tears came. Richie didn't bother anymore to fight them off. 

He miserably returned to laying his head into his folded arms on his window sill and cried. Tears slid from his forearms and pooled onto the white wood. He stayed as quiet as he could, not wanting his dad to check up on him.

Richie’s miserable moans were done into his arms to quiet the noise. He never let himself cry like this. He would bottle up the sadness or numb it with nicotine or direct his energy into other things like trying to make his friends laugh. Trying to make others feel good when he did not. But this time, he let the tears flow. He let himself cry and moan and feel sorry for his mom and his dad and himself.

In the mists of the sadness Richie felt for his home life, he thought of Eddie. More specifically, he thought about the night Eddie had thrown Richie off of himself, refusing his well-intended goodbye hug. Richie rubbed the back of his head to see if he could even remember where he had hit it. He couldn't pinpoint the exact spot. What he remembered most that night was how scared Eddie looked realizing what he had just done. And how sorry he was for doing it. Richie tried to imagine how Eddie could have dug himself into such a deep hole of avoiding like the plague what he was so curious for. Fresh grief washed over Richie as he repeated in his head Eddie’s plea before Richie left his house this morning. "You can't tell anyone. No one. Please."

Richie cried for Eddie.

After a while, he felt exhausted. His body felt heavy with emotion. His back hurt from sleeping in that damned hammock. He put away his cigarette and lighter into his backpack and climbed into bed. There were still a few hours before the sleepover. He laid under his thin blanket and wished his quilt wasn't dirty or else he would lay under that as well. 

As he drifted into sleep Richie told himself, time for feeling sorry for yourself is over. He was going to see his friends tonight and he was going to be happy. He was going to do what he did best and tell dumb jokes and it would be a great night where he didnt need to think about his parent’s drama. Parents suck. He just wanted to be around his friends.  
_______________________________________________________________________

Once Richie had left, Eddie paced dazedly around his room. He felt too buzzed to nap or read or draw. Eddie touched his fingertips to where Richie’s lips had touched his cheek. He could have sworn he still felt the warmth. When it happened, the corner of Richie’s glasses had smooshed up against Eddie’s cheekbone and hurt a little, but he didn't mind. It was a moment like one in a comic book or a movie. A trope Eddie had always imagined but never dreamed he would get to experience himself.

Still pacing with his fingertips to his cheek, Eddie thought back to the first time he realized he wanted to kiss Richie.

It was last summer. A scorching hot day, which was bad enough, but worst of all was the humidity. The humidity clung to your skin and made you drip with sweat. Each loser tried to beat the heat in their own way. Beverly and Ben sat near the edge of the pond with both their feet dipped in the water while reading their separate books. Stan sat on a rock with Bill in the shade while they both drank water. Eddie, Richie, and Mike skipped rocks on the pond.

Mike was kicking both of their asses so far. Richie especially sucked at the game today and exclaimed, “It's because of the HEAT! I feel like I have a pond forming in my underwear that we can skip rocks in if I don't stop sweating!”

Mike found that to be particularly hysterical and burst out laughing. 

Eddie mumble, “Ew.”

“What, Eds? Mike thinks my pond of ball sweat is hilarious!”

Eddie skipped another stone and it hopped once then sank, “I think the heat is making him delirious.”

Mike took a quick break requested by Bill to drink some of the water brought along until he could stop giggling. After, the three began to play again. 

Richie threw his rock and it immediately sank. From behind, Stan and Bill heckled “booooo."

“Goddamnit!” Richie cried. In frustration from the temperature, he ripped off his shirt and threw it in the dirt.

“Oh yeah,” Mike said while aiming to skip his own rock, “Because it was the shirt holding you back all this time.” He tossed and it skipped three times.

“It's the heat man,” Richie complained for the millionth time. “I can’t take the heat. I feel like I’m boiling.”

“Well,” Stan quipped from behind on his rock, “Having less clothes on doesn’t actually help. It can even make it worse. As counterintuitive as it sounds, you should really be covering up when the sun is this hot, but with breathable clothes. To protect your skin.”

Richie gave Stan the finger. Eddie looked down at himself and wondered if he should be wearing more clothes.

The three decided to take an extended break from the game and sat on the ground in the shade around the rock Stan and Bill sat on. The five hydrated and chatted. Richie made a comment about Ms. Kaspbrak in a bathing suit.

After giving his best murderous glare in response, Eddie looked away, but then for some reason, he looked back. He eyed Richie up and down. Richie was long and skinny. He was pale and had a bad habit of slouching. The conversation the others were having prompted Eddie about something and he answered, but when the attention isn't on him, he looked back to Richie.

Richie was skinny, as he noted before, but his arms and stomach were toned. He had been playing a lot of basketball with Stan, Bill, and Mike this summer. He was undoubtedly pale, but it wasn't a greenish sickly pale like he sometimes got over winter. He was still pale, but his skin glowed healthily in the sun from all the time he has been spending outside. His black curls stuck to his forehead from the sweat and beads of it sat on his shoulders. On Richie’s glasses where dried watermarks from the pond splashing back at them when throwing rocks. Eddie wanted to reach out and clean Richie’s glasses for him.

Richie felt Eddie’s eyes on him and returned the look with a questioning one. It seemed that he was about to say something, but Bill addressed him and Richie was roped back into the conversation. Eddie looked away from Richie embarrassed to be caught. Embarrassed for thinking he was toned or for wanting to clean his glasses. He tried to get invested in the topic of movies, but Eddie kept glancing over at his friend. 

Richie took a particularly long gulp from his water and when he pulled the plastic bottle away some spilled onto his chin and down his chest. Left behind were drops of water on Richie’s bottom lip. Eddie found himself, again, staring. 

“Earth to Edward?” Richie asked, confused. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “Is there something on my face?”

Eddie realized all four boys he sat with were now staring at him. “Your glasses are dirty,” Eddie stated and gulped from his water bottle attempting to be nonchalant and to avoid further explanation.

The boys all looked at each other noting Eddie’s odd behavior. Stan reached out his hand and Richie handed him his glasses to clean since his shirt was off near the pond abandoned in the dirt.

Beverly interrupted the boy’s exchange by walking over from her and Ben’s reading session and asking: “Do you guys wanna swim?” 

Over in the pond was Ben already shirtless and knee-deep in the water. All the boys agreed and the day went on as normal as the rest of the heat scorching summer days. Except for a funny feeling Eddie now felt when he looked a little too long at his friend. It was a feeling he hoped he could shake off by the end of the day. That, however, would not be the case.

Eight or so many months later, and the funny feeling Eddie felt only intensified with each passing day and positioned itself at the forefront of Eddie’s mind, demanding attention at all hours. All-day and every day wanting to reach out to Richie. The stronger his feelings became, the more he was scared of the people around him finding out. The more scared he was of things changing. Of days by the pond skipping rocks with the losers in the blistering heat ceasing to exist. 

It had to stay a secret, he convinced himself long ago. And now, more than ever, he believed in that philosophy. Eddie never expected to get a taste of what he dreamed of and now that he had he wasn't going to let anything ruin it. It was self-contained and wonderful and Eddie wanted it all to himself. He wasn't going to let the outside world poison it. It was his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deleted twitter and instagram from my phone a few days ago and I suddenly have so much time on my hands  
Not to be preachy but I'm a lot less depressed now without all the terrible news being throw at me 24/7 that I have no control over  
I'm not saying it's a bad thing to be informed (I actually think its really important) but giving ourselves a break every once in a while and experiencing the good things in life is healing af for the soul  
It is for me at least


End file.
